Pedestal
by EllaColette
Summary: It was only human to make mistakes but Izaya thought himself a god. It was only a matter of time before he would be shaken down from the safety of his pedestal. (IzayaXOC)
1. The Mission

No sooner had the words left his mouth did a rancid taste seize his tongue. He should have been claimed by sheer ecstasy, brought to the summit of absolute euphoria. After all, he had so easily broken the foolish boy, effectively shaken him off of his throne wrought of childish naivety. Yet, no solace in this feat could be found and instead, the informant's head had begun to spin though hardly due to the noxious sterility of the hospital wing he strolled from.

Izaya should've known she would find a way to undermine his triumph. Just the thought of the girl turned his mood sour and he feared soon enough, nausea would burrow into the deepest recesses of his core and then some. It was unsettling, to say the least, that a mere human could have such a profound effect on the man. His conversation with Masaomi reverberated deafeningly in his mind until Izaya became consumed by the memory of Mori Hinamei.

At first, she hadn't meant much (though Izaya would argue she never did); he had easily mistaken her for another of his cult-like admirers. It was—and never would be—her persistent interest in him that had intrigued him (although it could be argued that it was her lack thereof but that remains unsaid). No, what seemed to have intoxicated—for who in the right mind could will themselves to endure the girl's antics?—the devious informant was her apparent lack of fear, her otherworldly sense of invincibility that rolled off of her in thick waves. He snorted at the thought, hands tucked into the depths of his favored coat's pockets. She was just as foolish as Masaomi, perhaps even more so. It was incredible, really, how she had managed to hold on for so long. Izaya wasn't particularly known for any extended relationships. Connections were good, no doubt, but networking was all in a day's work. Once night took the city in it's cool and dark embrace, it seemed to nestle its way into the Ikebukurans' hearts, changing men into the most formidable creatures. Hinamei proved to be no different.

Izaya scoffed at that as he crossed the hospital courtyard. Of course she'd be no different for she was human, mind you. And while the informant found it quite simple to categorize each type—separate the fragile, the meek, the hot-headed, and the vain—there were always outliers like the dullahan and that damn brute. But even there, Izaya begrudgingly realized, Hinamei seemed unfit. She was not extraordinary, in fact, she was only quite annoying. Even so, it never felt right to post a label to her as an "other"—she was simply Hinamei and yet, she had quickly become so much more.

Izaya carried on along the bustling sidewalk, the normal skip to his gait contained. The way his lips pulled into a straight line could've been mistaken for normality had his reputation not proceeded him. In a crowd of average pedestrians, a swarm of gray faces on an ever-changing backdrop, Izaya could never camouflage into a façade of the mundane for his life was anything but ordinary. This, he thought, he should be grateful for. What was a life of simplicity, one in which no one trembled at your name? What sense of fulfillment could be found without the flash of recognition across an otherwise innocent face, the very look that sent his whole body on fire in pure delight? For that he should've thank her, for helping him channel his desires. But by the same token, he despised her for having tainted his narrow source of joy.

His thumb grazed the length of the flick blade tucked into his pocket. She really had a way of riling him up. He had half a mind to seek out Shizou; perhaps the heat of pursuit would cleanse his mind of her. It was unfortunate he had other matters to attend to; his clients would have to settle with only part of his attention and hardly any of his patience. His jaw clenched tightly as he rounded the corner. How long had it been since he was last this way? Manipulating the color gangs had proven to be an adequate distraction but after the fall of Masaomi Kida, Izaya found himself once again swarmed by thoughts of Mori Hinamei. It didn't help that there were countless reminders; how many times had he crossed her face glossed over on one of those fashion magazines? And if she wasn't haunting him enough, she had begun appearing on ads stretched across busses or glaring brightly atop of a yellow taxi cab. Somewhere, he was sure, she was laughing at him in that way Hinamei often would. He flicked open the blade, fingers wound tightly about the handle. She had disappeared without a trace only to come back as the face of some high-end modeling agency. Yes, there was no doubt that Hinamei was mocking him.

As he crossed one of those accursed newsstands, he was tempted to drive his blade into a cover. It wasn't fair, he argued, that her face be so ethereal while her core was anything but. Her face should be as corrupt as the wicked woman's own heart. This seemed to put Izaya at ease as he slipped into a lavish building. Early on in their correspondence, his client had made it clear his request would spare no expense. It was never for the money to Izaya, anyway. Just the thrill of turning the tables, of setting up the match as he saw fit, was a high so exceedingly unimaginable that even then, sent a slow creeping shiver up his spine. Though his earlier triumph had been short-lived, he was relieved the next was within arm's reach. It was this that had momentarily freed him of Hinamei's wrath. Once submerged in his next endeavor, he'd be rid of her once again and his merriment could ensure. He closed his eyes with a content sigh falling past his upturned lips. It didn't matter if the fix could only be temporary—he would soon enough be able to uphold his ruse of eternal delight.

The elevator dinged, letting him off at the proper flight. The lobby was simply decorate though tastefully so. The little secretary behind the counter flashed him a pretty smile as he crossed the floor to sign in. The way she beamed up at him made him wonder if she knew who he was. Maybe it didn't matter if she did or did not considering who she was working for. Humans, no matter how insignificant, never ceased to amaze him. It was not too long after he had sunk comfortable into a chair that the man in question emerged from a back room. The secretary bowed, smiling as she motioned over to where Izaya sat. The man was quite tall, slim but exuded a thick air of prominence. From behind the tinted glasses perched languidly on the bridge of his nose, the tips of an old scar marred the length of the right side of his face. He removed the glasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of his suit as he held out a hand in greeting. It was then that Izaya noticed the man was blind in his ruined eye. The informant couldn't pity him, however; the look effectively made the man that much more intimidating. Izaya could feel the first bouts of excitement coursing through him as he rose from his seat.

"Mizuki Akabayashi," he greeted, "What a pleasure it is to meet you.~"

Akabayshi grimaced at Izaya's informality, shaking his hand nonetheless. He supposed he shouldn't have been taken aback—the man _was_ paid to know everyone worth knowing in the underground society of Ikebukuro. "Thank you for meeting with me, Orihara-san," Akabayshi said, "Shall we take our business somewhere with a bit more privacy?" He then motioned to the back room he had come from to which Izaya complied with a wicked smirk and hands shoved into his pockets. The little secretary gave a wave before she disappeared from the men's view. They had moved into an office that contrasted the inviting lobby. While still giving off a sense of expensive taste, dark curtains were hung over the floor-to-ceilings and the room was adorned by equally brooding colors. Akabayshi gestured towards a plush leather sofa as he busied himself at a personal bar. Two bourbons on marble rocks in hand, Akabayshi joined Izaya with a seat opposite of him. Akabayshi handed the man a drink to which they gave a single clink before delving into business.

"So," Izaya started as he lounged back into his seat, "It's my understanding you're interested on someone who's gone rogue." He grinned as held the glass to his lips for a moment. "I'll have you know, Aka-kun, you've come to the right person.~" His tone could've been mistaken for conceit but to him, it was only truth.

Akabayshi nursed his own drink, giving it a swirl as he produced a confidential folder from the confines of his suit jacket. He placed it on the coffee table between them, offering it to the informant. Izaya was more than eager to lean forward and trade his drink for the file though he outwardly remained composed. He tore the seal open with the sharp end of his flick blade, slowly shuffling out a series of documents from within. Curiously enough, many of the articles were clippings pulled from newspapers with headlines reading something about drug busts and rising death counts. He took up his bourbon once again, sipping as he set the papers down.

"Who is it that you want?" he asked as interest began to wane. Leave it to the Awakusu-kai to deal with such boring affairs as drug dealers.

Akabayshi's jaw clenched as he drew what appeared to be a series of photographs from his suit. He sifted through them, his drink seemingly forgotten as the images called for his full attention. After a moment he spoke though his eyes remained set on the last photo. "I don't like drugs," he said slowly as he finally averted his gaze to the informant. "They have the power to change a person into someone they're not." He took one of the images between his two fingers allowing Izaya a view of what it held. It appeared to be a candid of some well-dressed man but Izaya deduced the picture had been taken without the man's knowing. The way his shoulders had hunched over as though to conceal his face made it apparent that the man hadn't wished to be seen much less photographed. There was something about him Izaya recognized, a quality about the man that made him stand out against his surroundings like a beacon shining out to a dark tumultuous sea. He looked disturbingly familiar, like a distant uncle whose name escaped him. "This man has defected from the Awakusu-kai," Akabayshi explained shortly, "His reason for leaving remains unclear although we have reason to believe it's due to—" Again, a grimace contorted his features as he traded the image for his drink. "A conflict in interests." He paused as he took a long sip of his bourbon, sighing as he set down the glass and flipped between the other photos. "He's been virtually untraceable," Akabayshi continued on, "That photo was taken some months ago by one of our members in Taiwan." Izaya's eyes flickered to the image once more as Akabayshi resumed. "It's not the drugs that concerns us," he said in a slow, heavy way, "We all have our own personal interests." He ran a hand to slick back his hair as he frowned. "And at times, they don't align. However, his skills are invaluable. He was quite the asset to our team." Akabayshi finally stared straight on at Izaya, his expression hard and stern and only magnified by his deformity. "We need your help locating him," he said in all seriousness, "But to do so, you'll need this." He set the second image on the table between them.

Though he was sure he would explode from the thrill of the events unfolding, the instant Akabayshi laid the image before him, Izaya could do nothing to hold back his wild laughter. He held his sides tightly as he fell back into his seat with tears springing up in the corner of his eyes. He had taken on the visage of an insane asylum patient but no matter, the man laughed on. He quickly realized why the man in the photograph had been vaguely familiar—it was the woman's bloody father! It was when Akabayshi exposed the second image that the revelation hit him with a ferocity that rivaled even Heiwajima Shizou's infamous brute strength. Her face looked back at his, a smolder that would surely could set the building ablaze. When Izaya finally calmed down, he seized the portrait in his hand and grinned at the irked Akabayshi. "Mori Hinamei," he said through his chuckles, "And why would she ever give up her dear father?~"

Akabayshi could not help but be momentarily caught by surprise by the informant's extensive knowledge of his case though he quickly gathered himself. "She's the only one who may know," he explained as he took up his bourbon, "and may be willing to give him up. From what sources tell me, she holds her father in contempt, for what, I'm juts not sure." Akabayshi shrugged, assuming the all-knowing Izaya had an idea and he certainly had. "She won't talk to us," he went on, "Hasn't since she and her mother severed all ties." He shook his head at that. "That's why we need an outsider, someone she could learn to trust. She will confide in you; you understand what it takes to get people to do what you want."

At his words, Izaya's sneer only seemed to widen as his shoulders shook with laughter. "I'm the last person Hina-chan would ever confide in," he confessed through his toothy leer. He lounged back in his seat as he threw his arms across the back comfortably. "How about you torture it out of her? That'll have her singing like a bird.~" His suggestion sent tingles of delight at the mere prospect of her pain yet the taste of bile permeated his tongue and he was forced to take a sip from his bourbon. The liquid effectively washed away the nasty hold Hinamei seemed to hold on him if only for that moment.

At Izaya's absurd proposal, Akabayshi glowered as he firmly set his own glass down. "As I've mentioned before, Orihara-san, we follow may have our personal tastes; torturing a woman to seek out her father is not one of my own interests," he said with an indignant huff as he propped his elbows on his knees and folded his hands before him. He balanced his chin on his laced fingers as he roved over the images he had set on the table. "While the Moris have left us, they're still considered family. For that reason, this mission requires the utmost delicacy. That's why we need a third party." Though he didn't show it, Akabayshi became unnerved by the unfaltering grin the informant wore.

"I never said I wasn't interested," Izaya cooed as he swirled his drink around. "Quite the contrary, Aka-kun!~" His lips twitched at the obvious disdain brewing between the two men. "I'll gladly take on your mission," he said with a wave of his hand, "But it'll cost you extra. Two people, two times the trouble." Izaya quickly downed the remainder of his drink, quite pleased with himself. Akabayshi made no indication that the informant's request wouldn't be met. "Oh, and also," he went on as his eyes seemed to flash with a peculiar shade of red, "This mission of yours can't be handled with 'delicacy…'" Just when Akabayshi was sure the informant couldn't look anymore wicked, his smirk only stretched out ever more reminding him of a Cheshire cat. "Only with danger. Hinamei would have it no other way, you know."

And though it appeared as though Akabayshi would refute this final term, he begrudgingly agreed with Izaya's conditions. Locating Kine was top priority even if that meant there was a possibility Hinamei would serve as collateral damage. She would come to understand, Akabayshi reasoned, as he signed away a heavy check made out to the devious man opposite of him. You could leave the Awakusu-kai, but it never would leave you, not entirely at least. He hoped this notion would ease the trouble that seemed to take the form of dread in the pit of his stomach. As the informant took the confidential file and payment, he skipped away in sick merriment, out of the lobby and out into the waiting streets. As Akabayshi sunk back into his seat with a heavy sigh, he scanned over the remaining photograph for a moment before carefully tucking it away into the safety of his suit's pocket. He stared at his bourbon, tempted to drink but knowing full well the intoxication would not mesh well with the unease brewing within him. "Sayaka," he murmured as he threw his head over the back of his seat and ran a hand slowly through his hair. "If you're listening, please, watch over her. Oh God, what have I done?"

It hadn't taken long for Akabayashi to be claimed by the fear of the game that had not, but would undoubtedly, begin, the game he had all started and handed over to an eager Izaya. Who would reign victor? No matter which way he put it, he found no satisfaction in either result. What's done is done, he argued, though he hoped that he could live with the consequences of it all. With this, he took up his glass and downed the final bit of his drink.

Elsewhere, Izaya found the liveliness had returned to his usual bouncing gait. The high of the entire day could carry him home with no fault and in the dead of night, he found himself sashaying from the streets of Ikebukuro to his home in Shinjiku. A lengthy walk, there was no doubt, but Izaya could feel no weariness. Not as he climbed the stairs to his apartment nor even when he threw himself into his computer chair, spinning himself wildly around. His laughter filled the void that was his apartment, the morning sunlight bleeding in with shades of brilliant oranges and reds. The whole world could've vanished and he could give not a single care so long as his opportunity remained. As the chair came to a slow stop he planted his feet firmly on the ground though his head still whirled madly. He fished out his cell phone from his pocket, flipping the thing open as he scrolled through his pictures. And there she was, he felt his lips quiver, smiling back at him so brightly in a way that made her seem so foreign to him now. He clamped the screen shut and was overwhelmed with a sense of pleasure and he laughed. He laughed so hard that his whole body seemed to shake from the intensity of it. In that moment, Izaya was sure he was the closest to Valhalla as he could ever be. Soon, he knew, he would finally be rid of Mori Hinamei, once and for all and he had her own father to thank for that.

* * *

**Author's Note: The story is set after the Yellow Scarves/Blue Squares war and will lead into Season 1, though it will be more like a side story to rather than a rewriting of. All DRRR! characters are quite complex and I find Izaya to be the most frustrating to write so please let me know how I'm doing! I try to write him more from his manipulative and crazed persona rather than the child-like one. It's his dark side that I'm really interested in and will be focusing on for the most part of the story. Anyways, I'd like to hear what you have to say as I'm undecided as to whether or not I want to continue and make this a lengthy process. Thank you in advance!**


	2. The Homecoming

For a woman who had so effortlessly fallen off the grid, it was amazing how easily Izaya could pinpoint Mori Hinamei's exact location. He had technology to thank; he had her every breath on check at the very tips of his fingers. He wondered for a moment how it was ever decided that something as dangerous as the internet could be extended out to the masses. Humans were incredibly daft and reckless beings, and with technology at their disposal, they validated these points to no end.

He had presumed his research would lay claim over the majority of his day. It was a celebrity fan page he had stumbled when he learned of Hinamei's whereabouts. A teenage boy had spotted the woman boarding the same flight and proceeded to snap a countless number of her long legs. He had quickly uploaded the images with detail of his sick boyhood fantasies. How childish, Izaya scolded, for the grotesque assumption he could bed the famous model. The kid had even gone so far to suggest she would be happy if he were to take her by force. With a couple of clicks, Izaya had easily traced the information back to the user. He saved the data on a sticky note, sure to use it for a later date.

With a sigh, the informant pushed himself from his desk, spinning himself around to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Shinjuku stretched out before him endlessly though his attention was averted to the sky. The heavens were painted a robin's egg blue though in the distance, the first bans of navy seemed to permeate the horizon. From the darkness, Hinamei would emerge and plague the streets of Ikebukuro with every high-heeled step. His skin nearly erupted with goosebumps at the very thought of her arrival.

Manipulation was fun as was always having his way. Even the chase of the blonde-headed brute was a thrill Izaya could compare to no other. Yet, nothing could parallel the ecstasy he felt with the fall of Mori Hinamei.

He supposed he should've felt guilty for all that had transpired. At one point, he imagined, they could've been considered friends or more. But she always had to get herself into some sort of trouble. It was her own fault, he decided, and could be no others'. She may have been Awakusu but that didn't mean she was invincible. Even kings fall, Izaya knew, and Hinamei was no god. She was as mortal as any other and fell just the same. This time, he would relish in her defeat and feel no other way.

He grinned to himself as he tugged himself into his coat and made his way out the door.

* * *

Privacy was a luxury most celebrities could never attain. Hinamei had learned this quite early on. She hadn't always been against her father's practices (the Awakusu-kai was family, after all) yet she was never so fond of the unwarranted attention it entailed. When she had left Ikebukuro, it was with the intention of seeking out a place where no one knew (or feared) her name. Italy had become her sanctuary but relief proved to be short-lived.

She could've been convinced her parents were wiccans had they not frequented shrines when she was younger. At some point however, she assumed they had bartered away their solitude for the promise of power and wealth. While Hinamei understood magic could never exist in the world she lived in, she knew monsters existed, disguised as men in designer suits.

At times, she wished it were that easy to shed her skin and reveal someone new, with shorter legs, perhaps, or eyes as dark as the midnight sky. Her fantasy could only come true by way of knife, though she found solace in the next best thing. Modeling allowed her to transform into an entirely other being. An expertly contoured face made her reflection appear foreign to even herself and for that, she was truly grateful. Her identities were as infinite as the stars in a dark country sky but her reality, alas remained rather singular.

She hadn't anticipated a rise to fame nor had it been her intention. As her name was uttered across the globe, her face plastered across countless billboards and magazines, Hinamei's only wish was to be another. As she glanced across the first class cabin, she scanned the passenger's faces with what could only be envy. How nice it must be to live a life of absolute monotony. She wondered what is was like to have no one care to know your name. Those suits had looked rather uncomfortable although they couldn't be any worse to the heels she was subjected to. Normality would always evade her, Hinamei understood, and her life would remain the same.

She was drawn from her thoughts by the appearance of a stewardess pushing a small cart. "Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Hinamei Mori?" she asked with an awkward little smile. It was evident the Italian woman was rather proud of her broken Japanese. While Hinamei wasn't much impressed, she also didn't care enough to correct the lady's attempt. Instead, she forced a little smile with a request of prosecco in the woman's native tongue.

She turned to the world beyond her, to the never-ending expanse of heaven in the form of white clouds broken by amber light and patches of dark blue sky. Evening would be settling in by the time the plane landed and with every ticking second, Hinamei's heart seemed to sink. She had traveled across the world in the name of fashion but Japan had never appeared on her itinerary. She knew the day would come where she'd have to face Ikebukuro; she only wished she could delay it for perhaps another day longer.

She lightly flinched at the tap on her shoulder, turning to find the little stewardess again. She smiled apologetically as she handed the model a flute before removing the foil from the little bottle. The cork came off with a satisfying _pop!_ And the bubbles fizzed loudly as the woman poured into Hinamei's glass. She dismissed her attempts at Japanese, embracing her native Italian as she asked, "To what do we owe the occasion, Signorina Mori?" She waited for her response as she shoved a stopper into the bottle's lip.

Hinamei fought a grimace as she sipped at her wine though the action was hardly to the dryness of her drink. "To coming home," she said softly as she took another sip. The stewardess gave her a warm congratulations before carrying on her way. Though she surely had meant well, the woman had effectively ruined Hinamei's drink. With each drop that touched her lips, dread seem to swell in the depths of her gut.

* * *

Night had claimed the city by the time Izaya strolled down Ikebukuro's bustling streets. The weekend had come and filled the city with life though there was only one that seemed to consume his mind. He could sense her very presence from somewhere within the city. It was only a matter of time before they would cross paths.

Izaya couldn't fend off the grin that stretched across his features. Locating Hinamei would be an easy task and breaking her would prove to be quite the enjoyable one. She would give up her father without hesitation once he had her begging for mercy from her knees. He wondered if she would tremble at his sight, panicked, and try to flee. She would cry for him to stay away from her though he just wouldn't be able to comply. She had returned to his city and now she'd have to pay for all the trouble she had caused.

He flipped through a number of messaging boards, awaiting the outbreak of the woman's whereabouts. She had been spotted coming off the plane although she was quickly ushered into an unmarked car. There were many events going on that night and fans were speculating which ones she would be attending. There was a few fashion events taking place, an art gallery revealing, and some celebrity he never heard of was celebrating their birthday at Bed, how cliché. He knew Hinamei wouldn't risk the chance of running into him and therefore, would attend an event he wouldn't set foot in. At one user's suggestion of some charity gala, Izaya nearly laughed as he quickly looked up the event's information. Hinamei wouldn't be able to escape him tonight, he thought as he made his way to the Metropolitan Hotel.

The stairs leading up to the hotel's entrance was ornately decorated with lavender lanterns and white dahlias. From where Izaya stood, he could see a woman checking in the guests and offering a similarly arranged corsage to the ladies as they entered. The line was ever growing with faces Izaya didn't care to remember. He was sure she would be here although he became annoyed with the thought that she had already arrived. With hands shoved into his coat's pockets, he snaked his way to the head of the line and sneered at the door woman.

"Name, sir?" she demanded as she gave him a pointed look over. While he wasn't dressed nearly as formally as the others, he was sure his custom attire cost more than one of those woman's elegant gowns, anyways.

"Orihara Izaya," he offered coolly, eagerly awaiting the look of recognition to flash across the woman's face.

She merely arched her brow as she flipped through a list, shaking her head at the end. "Your name's nowhere to be found," she said as though she had known all along, "And even if it were, I couldn't allow you in wearing _that_."

Before the informant even had a moment to retort, he was moved aside by the next couple in line. These types were certainly ballsy and he had half a mind to show them who they were dealing with. While he wasn't a stranger to making scenes, he didn't want to tip off Hinamei of his looming presence. He clenched his jaw and reluctantly left as he scrolled through the fan threads. Surely enough, she had been captured upon waltzing into the hotel. He nearly growled as he clamped the phone shut, forcefully shoving it into his pocket.

He could wait for her departure though he wasn't sure how long that would take. He was also quickly losing his patience and would surely interrupt her little charity event before its end anyhow. What was there to do in the meantime that wouldn't have him stray too far off course? As he eyed his surroundings, he could hear in the distance a call for Russian sushi. He grinned to himself as he made his way to Simon Brezhnev. The towering man smiled widely to every passersby despite their evident fear of the foreigner. Every so often, one would take his flyer in their trembling hand before scurrying on their way. It was a wonder the place was still in business. Izaya wondered if he was their sole patron.

"Ah, Izaya," the man cheered upon the informant's arrival. "Fatty tuna for dinner, yes? Sushi good for blood pressure, good for heart!"

"I've got some time to kill, Simon-san," Izaya said with a shrug, "Guess I can fill it with some sushi."

"And sake, yes," the Russian went on, eagerly leading Izaya towards the restaurant. He held the door open for him as his smile widened. "Your table is ready! Don't leave young miss waiting!"

Izaya froze at Simon's words but missed the chance to ask what he had meant. The door behind him was closed and he was left alone in the dim restaurant with only the sound of Dennis working on rolls. The blue-eyed man acknowledged the informant with a simple nod of his head. He seemed to avoid Izaya's eyes and at once, he knew something was up.

He had always said what had interested him most was when humans performed out of the norm. He loved when they exceeded his expectations, or failed to perform them altogether. It was not often he was caught by surprise and though he figured he should appreciate it, he found himself slowly becoming overwhelmed with what only could be disdain.

There was no one in the restaurant from what he had observed yet he knew at some point she had been there. She could very well be hiding still somewhere he could not see. There was one table towards the back of the restaurant that seemed to draw him near. He imagined her sitting there, hands folded together before her as though she were pretending she was wringing out his neck. She would tilt her head to the side lightly and smile the emptiest of smiles. And he would laugh and laugh at her misery though now, he only seemed to grimace.

She was nowhere in sight and he presumed she had left out the back door, without Simon's knowing. There was no doubt she had been there, Izaya knew as he stopped at the table. Thrown in the center was a familiar corsage similar to the ones worn by the ladies at the gala he had been denied entry from. Attached was a folded note with his name neatly scrawled across the cover. He took it up and flipped open the parchment, his jaw clenched tightly in irritation.

_"I forgive you_" was all it said, three words that should've sent the informant into hysterics but instead, unnerved him to no end. He would never accept her forgiveness because there was simply nothing to be forgiven. To be forgiven meant there had been error, and a god could do no wrong. Izaya tore the note from the flowers, crumpling the parchment as he shoved it in his pocket. Leave it to Hinamei to try and fail to get under his skin. Well, if that's what she intended, that's what'd she get, he thought as he fought off a smirk. And when he was through with her, Izaya would make damn sure she was nothing but completely and utterly ruined, more so than she already was. He gave a nod to Dennis on his way out, bent on finding the woman and destroying her by the end of that very night.


	3. The Reunion

As Izaya stepped out from the cab, he could feel the weight of the note in his pocket, heavy as though it were crafted from steel. The reminder of Hinamei's antics made his patience wear thin but he was sure this time, he would find her. Just the thought brought a smirk to his lips as he strolled up to the entrance of the nightclub, Bed. He didn't know why he hadn't thought to go there first; after all, she had proven to be quite a lush in their youth, having sneaked the two of them into bars she knew wouldn't ask for IDs. The perks of having long legs, she had said with a wink, as they buzzed over dirty martinis. If Hinamei now was anything like the Hinamei back then, she would undoubtedly be found in a private booth with expensive bottles and a variety of mixers.

Izaya imagined the rage that would take over her as she beheld his own smug face. He pictured her holding the neck of a bottle, shattering it to use the sharp end as a weapon. She would swipe at him scornfully and curse him to the deepest realm of hell. Izaya grinned as he eagerly fingered the hungry blade in his coat's pocket. The anticipation of destroying her had effectively overpowered any unease.

As he crossed the lively dancefloor, he caught sight of a particular woman making her way to the VIP section. A familiar corsage hung from her thin wrist perched on her swaying hips. He took this as an invitation to follow, and with a sneer, he obliged with a quick stride. The woman slid into the booth, pouring herself another glass as she conversed with her companions though Izaya's attention was no longer on her. Instead, it had been claimed by the woman with her back to him, long white fingers running luxuriously through her tousled hair. Her wrists were barren of the lavender and white corsage, he noticed, as one hand easily wound about the stem of a champagne flute. He could feel his heart race though his intuition told him that clearly, something wasn't right. Could Hinamei truly be so easily found? He pushed the doubt aside.

It seemed that the woman he had followed had noticed his being there as she smiled seductively at him before bidding the others to acknowledge his presence as well. His thumb pressed down on the button of his flickblade, the knife eagerly springing free from its prison much like his own excitement. This would be the moment Hinamei would realize her mistake in returning to Ikebukuro. This would be the moment she would regret having ever crossed his path. As the woman turned around, he couldn't help but grin like a mad man as he felt as though his heart would explode with the thrill of it all. He would relish in the horrified look on her face, laugh at her surprise at having been cornered, yet to his own disbelief, the woman wore an expression not of revulsion but instead, of perplextion by the way she arched a perfectly sculpted brow in question.

Izaya swore his heart had skipped a beat as his whole body went rigid. The woman before him was _not_ Mori Hinamei, just a rather imperfect replica. At first glance, she could have easily been (and was) mistaken for the bane of his existence. Yet under Izaya's expert eye, he could see every failed attempt on the model's part to embody Hinamei's unwordly beauty. The original had eyes of the palest blue with a small, straight nose set between; her flesh was a soft creamy beige that contrasted her cool ash brown locks; her pout was well sculpted with a heavier upper lip often drawn up in one corner as though to tempt one to bite. While the decoy had gotten the basics down, her legs as long and lean as Hinamei's own, her shortcomings, to the informant, were inexcusably innumerable. Her eyes were of an owlish hazel and her hair had too much warmth. Her face, while lovely, was sculpted too sharply, and her lips were wide and a bit thin. The way she looked at him was condescending, not sultry like Hinamei's renowned smolder. This, for some reason, unnerved the informant to no end though his expression mirrored the woman's, challenging and mischievous.

"Well," the impersonator said as she turned to him fully, smiling quite toothily. "What do you know? Hinamei _does_ have good taste in men." The woman's companions chorused their agreements, watching Izaya like predators with hooded lids and licked rouge lips.

He managed to force a crooked grin as he restrained himself from cutting the leering women's tongues clean from their mouths. Hinamei had surely put them up to this and for being accomplices, he saw no qualms in making them pay dearly. He had opened his mouth to begin his verbal onslaught when the lookalike withdrew a key from her purse. "She knew you would come," she explained with a chuckle. "Though she assumed you would be smart enough to go to her apartment directly. Guess she also figured the opposite." She tittered lightly as she shook the key between her fingers teasingly.

Thoroughly annoyed by her interruption (instructed by Hinamei, no doubt), Izaya took the key from the imposter's clutches, though his hold lingered about her hand. At the woman's questioning look, he tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes in a way most women found alluring and men, quite threatening. The expression had the intended effect, noted by the way the replica gingerly bit her bottom lip. "Thank you," Izaya purred as he closed the distance between himself and the copy. She gasped in mild surprise by his proximity but managed to give a breathy, _"My pleasure." _He leaned closer as though to kiss her on the cheek, though his lips hovered close to her ear instead. He could sense her growing lust by the way her hand trembled in his and the heat her body expelled as though to beg for him to come closer. He smirked, satisfied by her reaction and only wishing to taunt her more with his breath teasing the sensitive skin along the side of her neck. "You should stop trying so hard to look like Hinamei," he whispered, squeezing her hand tightly.

She watched him from the corner of her eye and slowly began to smirk back. "Oh?" she said softly, hoping that he could do more with his mouth than just speak.

"She's no goddess, contrary to her own beliefs," he said tantalizingly, his fingers slowly grazing the bottom of her palm before resting on her own fingertips that held Hinamei's key.

The woman cocked her head closer though she lifted her chin invitingly, eagerly awaiting for the moment the informant would devour her. "Is that what you think?" she breathed as she pressed her hip against his.

Izaya could do nothing to fend off the oncoming grin though the woman found it reassuring to her unsubtle advances. "You want to know what I think?" Izaya offered, forgoing his seductive tone. The woman arched a brow again though she still glowed with shameless desire. "I think Hinamei is repulsive yet you're doing her an injustice.~"

The woman stepped aside and cast Izaya a confused and mildly offended look. "What did you say?" she demanded as she placed a hand on her hip.

Izaya laughed lightly and gave as shrug as he easily snatched the key from her hold. "Hinamei is not worthy of admiration," he explained simply. "And your attempt to emulate her is terrible and unflattering. You make me sick to my stomach, like she does, except for a _very_ different reason.~" Izaya's brutality had the desired effect as the woman could only gape at him in sheer mortification. He closed her mouth shut with a tap under her chin before he smiled childishly and laughed to himself. "Ciao, ladies! Stay out of trouble!~" His laughter haunted the group of women long after the informant had skipped on his merry way.

* * *

The cool night air swept her hair off her neck and carried away a sigh. Hinamei had always found comfort in watching the city lights shining up to her perch yet not even the bubbling champagne in her glass could manage to lift her spirits. The benefit she had attended had gone along swimmingly though a gala was not something she dread. Instead, it was her friends' insistence to explore the city that had quite nearly thrown her over the edge.

The night had gone by without incident and she had managed to cross only one familiar face. She had smiled at Simon's excited greeting and took up his offer to dine in. She waited by his side at the doorway as he had ushered the women in. He had always been quite intuitive, Hinamei remembered, as he saw the trouble unspoken in her forced smile. He spoke to her in Russian as he asked what was on her mind. She had opened her mouth to elaborate when her friends impatiently called to her, ready to order their meals. She smiled up at the towering man apologetically and made one simple request. "Let me know if he comes looking," she had said softly and by the way Simon nodded, she assumed he had understood.

Though she felt some relief in knowing Simon would bid her warning, her sushi had gone mostly untouched with the fear the fish would only further unsettle her clenched gut. Her friends were on a different page with Anya, the fiery Ukrainian, insisting the night take them to some party at Bed. Hinamei had denied the invitation, wanting nothing more her city had to offer; she only longed for the comfort of a familiar bed and some wine to ease her into a thoughtless slumber.

Anya however wasn't going down without a fight. "You should be having fun," the Ukrainian argued, "instead of being hung up on some unrequited love!" Hinamei had shaken her head furiously, explaining that that was hardly the case but the way her face lit up at the accusation was fuel enough for Anya. The woman grabbed at Hinamei's wrist and made to scribble on the note attached to her corsage. "You have this weight holding you back, Hinamei," she said with a smirk as she relinquished her hold on the protesting girl's hand. "And if I remember correctly, its name is _Izaya!"_

The women laughed on Hinamei's behalf as she tore the corsage off her wrist in frustration. "That's hardly the case," she protested, "And I'd advise you to stop going through my phone lest you find yourself in a box on the back of a carrier plane." The threat fell on deaf ears as the ladies made to leave, their laughter leaving behind a silence that hung around her. Dennis had already cleared their table, leaving Hinamei quite alone with just herself and the corsage flung before her on the table. She fiddled with the thing, dubbing it absolutely ruined due to Anya's modification.

Forgiveness was not something all wished to seek and Hinamei was confident Izaya was one of these people. Not that he would think there was ever a case in which he needed forgiveness, she knew. All things he orchestrated came at a cost, he understood this clearly and paid causally. As Hinamei fingered at the note attached to the corsage, she thought of how ungrateful Izaya would be if he was ever to be forgiven. She thought of those wracked with guilt who yearned for redemption and frowned. The note was certainly more fitting for the survivors and their families the benefit had honored. The horrors they had suffered through and instilled upon their families warranted forgiveness and understanding for both parties. A ruthless unfeeling informant hardly qualified for even mercy.

Hinamei had abandoned her spot at the table as she made her way to pay. It was no surprise to her really that the others had skipped on the bill. They were models, not actresses, and while they were paid heavily, the women were still quite cheap. It was when she had scooted out of the booth that Hinamei had realized her bag had gone missing, and with it, effectively her phone, wallet, and keys. She cursed under her breath, knowing full and well it was no coincidence what with Anya's reputation. The Ukrainian had a knack for picking up things that were quite obviously not hers, and most notably, taking up Hinamei's own belongings. It was in this way she had learned of Izaya's identity, after all, as Hinamei had no interest in divulging in her past much less about Izaya of all people.

As she had approached the counter, she explained herself to Dennis with a promise to pay double what her group owed. He waved the trouble off easily, trusting in Hinamei's word. She may have come from a sketchy background but Hinamei wasn't known for diverging from the truth. With all things settled, she made her way out the door and in the direction of her home. Luckily, the front desk had kept a spare key though they were evidently shocked by the tenant's return. They had presumed the penthouse occupants had long been vacated though they had no paperwork to support their assumptions. Hinamei had merely smiled and made the request of a champagne bottle to be sent up to her room promptly. Her legs seemed to automatically direct her where to go when she found herself standing in her dark kitchen. Had the penthouse not been regularly cleaned, it surely would have looked quite deserted. It was modernly furnished with billowy white curtains slung over the floor to ceiling windows. It was beautiful but to Hinamei, quite obviously abandoned.

She eased out of her cocktail dress and drew a silk robe from her luggage before she kicked off her heels. As the room service attendant arrived, she directed him to set up the bottle and glasses outside on the patio. Perhaps with the French doors left open, the city would breathe life back into the place she had once called home. The attendant popped the cork and proceeded to pour Hinamei a glass that she took rather gratefully. As she was left alone once more, she moved to the banister and took in the view of the city below.

It was here that she shivered at the chill as she sipped from her glass. There was something about the top floor that had always been unsettling. To Hinamei, she felt that her home was a constant reminder of how out of reach humanity truly was for her; conversely, to Izaya, it was the reaffirmation of his superiority to all others. Izaya was always meant to be poised atop of a pedestal whereas Hinamei simply wanted off. She found relief in being freed from the memory of Izaya at the sound of the front door opening and closing. It was hard enough to return to Ikebukuro let alone be constantly haunted by the remembrance of its uncanny inhabitants. As annoying as she was, Hinamei was grateful for Anya's arrival though she was surprised the woman had returned when the night was still quite young. It was unlike the Ukrainian to turn in early on a night promising debauchery. Hinamei was mildly worried something had gone wrong though she figured whatever frustrated the woman was surely warranted.

It was at the sound of the footsteps against the patio floor that sent her whole body rigid; the sound was not one of stilettos but of _men's_ dress shoes. She slowly turned to look over her shoulder and while the sight had certainly caught her by surprise (evident by the way her heart began to thud painfully within her chest) her frown curled into a slow, easy smile as she made to turn to him fully. Her mouth had parted slightly around the curve of his name though the breath caught in her throat as her back was pressed harshly against the balcony railing. Her glass shattered on the ground as it slipped from her hold. After so many years, she imagined his face to be no other way: dangerously handsome in spite of the ever-present condescending sneer. He seemed rather proud to have her pinned against the ledge with his knife poised at the tender skin of her neck. She figured she should have feared for her life, had it been any other person; had _she_ been any other person, perhaps she would have. But Hinamei had always been quite unordinary and Izaya, quite the same though in a vastly different way. So instead of cowering beneath the tip of his hungry blade, she took her hand and cupped his cheek. He immediately froze under her touch and she smiled at this, slowly before fully blossoming with a little chuckle. If he hadn't drawn his knife, one could confuse the sight of Izaya and Hinamei as one of normality, of romance. But knowing the two, the picture could only be painted in some twisted way. "You haven't changed," she breathed softly as she eased under his blade. He didn't respond, not even when her fingers rounded against his flesh, pinching it tightly as she tugged. "You're annoying as ever, Iza-kun!~" Hinamei hadn't felt as alive as she had in that moment in quite some time and she had only Izaya to thank.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry about the delayed update! Finals are around the corner and are to blame. I should be updating weekly to biweekly after next week! Thank you for reading!**


	4. The Proposal

From the very moment his eyes had settled on the curves of her silhouette, Izaya had become overwhelmed with the intense desire to shove Hinamei clear over the edge of the balcony and be rid of her for good. One night was all it had taken to reaffirm his vexation and with each passing minute, the feeling only festered into something much more heinous. This was especially so as he took in her posture that read of absolutely ease, even under the sudden pressure of his sharp blade. The fury he thought would overcome her at the sight of the informant was all but absent in her eyes of the lightest blue. Only a sincere question could be found in their depths though he swore he sensed some mischief. Her ease under his menacing touch bred an incredible urge in Izaya to make one long slit across the base of her tender throat. He would relish in the moment the scarlet marred her porcelain skin and trickled into the cracks of the tiled floor below.

"You haven't changed," she had said softly as a smile ghosted upon her face. Izaya stiffened under the feel of her hand cupping his cheek gingerly before she roughly pinched it and narrowed her eyes. "You're annoying as ever, Iza-kun!~"

It was infuriating enough that she had the gall to touch him but even more so to address him so cordially. He wanted her to be overcome by some animalistic rage, to pounce on him like a raving lioness thirsting for the taste of fresh blood. But Hinamei was painstakingly calm and this did not sit well with the informant. He growled lowly in retaliation, smacking her hand away before quickly moving the blade back to her neck. "It seems you haven't either," he spat, "if you still think you're invincible."

"You're not here to kill me," she said evenly. She looked him dead in the eyes as though to dare him to say otherwise. "If so, you would've already done it or hired a hitman to keep your hands from getting dirty." She pushed his hand away from her neck holding his gaze steady until she moved past him and presumably made her way into her apartment,

Izaya seemed rooted in place, paralyzed in his fury. After all these years, he had hardly expected their fateful reencounter to be so infuriating, to play out so irritatingly. More than ever before, he was filled with regret and self-loathing for having not seized the moment to end Hinamei, once and for all. She was a maddening woman, one Izaya knew was never to be underestimated and yet, had done just that as he was blinded by his own hatred for her. She was cunning, not more so than himself, but enough to shake Izaya from the safety of his pedestal.

From his spot, he could hear her shuffling from the kitchen within before she reappeared with a dust pan and broom in hand. She moved wordlessly about him, sweeping up the shattered glass before depositing it in the disposal and returning with two fresh ones in place. She resumed her position before him, leaning comfortably against the railing as she offered him champagne. She held the flute patiently as he continued to scowl in a way that meant to cut straight through her. Her hand never retreated, he saw from his peripheral, though her lips did twitch upward slightly in a rattling little way. He felt his whole body begin to quiver before he even realized what he was doing; he growled lowly, swiping the glass clear from her hand. Though she recoiled from the spilt liquid, the only indication of his offense came in the form of a glower.

"Now you're just being wasteful," she muttered as she made to collect the dust pan again. "Would you stop brooding like a child and tell me why you've come? I'm sure it wasn't with the intention of breaking all of my glasses."

"You knew I was coming," Izaya accused as he spun around to her. She arched her brow in confusion as she swept up the broken glass. "You left this at Russian sushi." He tossed the note on the coffee table expecting to be rid of the weight that had burrowed into the depths of his pocket. Much to his chagrin, the load seemed to only intensify with the sudden look of surprise she made as she took up the folded parchment. "You knew I would come," he said lowly as he advanced to her like a predator stalking towards its prey. He smirked in the satisfaction of knowing he had figured her all out. She may have seemed composed on the outside (she was a model, after all; she was used to playing parts) but Izaya swore he could sense her fear in the unraveling of her plot, so much so that she felt the need to suddenly sit down. "You orchestrated the whole thing, don't try to deny it. All I want to know is why, and I won't feel the need to hurt you.~" He placed his hands roughly on either side of her shoulders. He had meant to intimidate her by their sudden proximity and his wicked sneer. For a while now, even before she had left, Izaya was referred to as one of the most dangerous men in Ikebukuro. Yet in turn, Hinamei only arched her brow as though seemingly amused by his show as she sipped from her champagne. Izaya could feel a tick coming on that made his smirk falter into a scowl once more. He quickly drew his blade out again in an effort to convince her that he wasn't bluffing. "Whatever you're getting at, Hinamei, you know full and well who you're up against."

He had managed to make her frown as she set her glass on the table behind him, maneuvering around him effortlessly before relaxing once again beneath him, arms folded across her chest. "I'm not up to anything, Izaya," she said as she held the note between her fingers. "One of my coworkers left this behind, if you really need an explanation. Not that I really owe you one. You're being quite hostile, you know." She nodded pointedly towards the blade he still held dangerously close to her throat.

"You left it there," he accused, "But how did you knew I would follow you to Bed?"

Hinamei stifled a chuckle as she placed a hand on his chest to push him away and into the next seat. "You went to Bed?" she asked incredulously. "If I didn't know any better, I'd call you a stalker. Perhaps I should be the one interrogating you?" She seized her champagne flute as she held the little note to the flame of a candle. "Anya must've given you my key when she had taken my purse. Trust me, I'm not any more amused than you are by her antics."

Izaya didn't care to talk about Anya, the woman he presumed to be the one he had both seduced and humiliated only an hour before. What he wanted to know was what Hinamei was up to and why she was adamant in feigning innocence. There was a time she had insisted she had a superpower in detecting when someone was lying. Whether or not she truly was gifted, she certainly had a knack for it and years ago, she had proven useful. But it wasn't to say because of her talent, she was particularly any good at lying. To Izaya, she had always been quite the open book and he could see right through her deceit. While this instance proved to be more difficult (he blamed time for his trouble), he wasn't convinced of her innocence just yet.

Hinamei frowned, expecting as much. "You don't believe me," she huffed as she scooted to the other end of the couch. "Why can't you believe that there are people who aren't as manipulative as you?"

"Because you said you forgive me," he snapped as he fingered the length of his flickblade pointed to her. "How the hell do you expect me to believe you when you said something like that?"

For a moment, she appeared confused before realization flashed across her face. She moved to hide the small smile stretching across her lips from behind the tip of her glass. "I see what's going on here," she said easily before she took a sip and set the flute down. She propped her elbow on the back of the couch and rested her head against her hand while the free one absentmindedly traced the side of his pointed blade. "Have you become so consumed by your guilt, Izaya, that you seek to rectify the past?" Her gaze flickered the weapon then to his face that was contorted in what could only be revulsion.

He had given her the pleasure of crawling underneath his skin, satisfied her taste in drawing out a reaction. The sickeningly sweet way she smiled convinced him that she had a death sentence. There could be no other reason lest she be mad, which to Izaya, wouldn't be too hard to believe. He could do it now, drive the end of his blade dead into the center of her chest and never have to hear the woman speak another word again. He would've too, if he knew for certain she wouldn't come back as a vengeful spirit and haunt him till the end of his own days. He showed the utmost restraint though his arm began to shake slowly and then fiercely as he erupted into laughter. She probably thought him to be crazy and then again, he had learned from her. Insanity, it seemed, was something neither seemed to suffer from but relished in every moment.

"You're a witch!" he laughed in between breaths, "To know I had said those things!" While he expected her to confess it all through a smug smile, neither pride nor sneer was expressed as she only frowned in response.

"I suppose I've been called worse before," she muttered as she ran a hand through her hair. "But I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Have you had too much to drink?"

Izaya fought the scowl that threatened to replace his wide Cheshire grin. "Masomi," he seemed to hiss, "I said something like that to Masomi just the other day. Was the kid so devastated by what happened to his little girlfriend that he managed to seek you out? Did he think you would help him try to destroy me? I never knew another could be as foolish at you."

Her face hardened as she swiftly pinched his cheek, closing the distance between them to give him the full intensity of her annoyed glare. "Just because I said 'I've been called worse before' doesn't mean I take kindly to your disrespect, Izaya," she said as she released him. "And I have no idea who this 'Masomi' is so I'd appreciate if you'd cut it with these false allegations." She took her glass and made to take a sip before she paused and grinned at him. "Don't get me wrong though, I'm truly flattered that you're so intimidated by me.~" It seemed as though Izaya couldn't stop himself as he flung towards the malicious woman in rage. He pinned her hands down on either side of her face, her expression a mix of annoyance and surprise. "You certainly know how to treat a lady," she bit with sarcasm. "And this is the third time you've managed in an hour to spill a glass of wine. You owe me a bottle and a new set of flutes."

A sound of frustration came from Izaya's throat as he leaned in closely to the infuriating woman. "I'm growing tired of your games, Hinamei," he warned as a sick taste played at his tongue. "I will have my way, whether you like it or not. So be a good girl and tell me what you know.~"

"You were never quite good at foreplay, hmm?" she teased as she fought the oncoming smirk. "How many times do I have to tell you? I. Know. _Nothing_."

"And I know everything," he quipped. "And I'd prefer to do this the easy way."

"And I, the hard," she said with a giggle that she tried to restrain as she bit her bottom lip. "You want me to start talking? Well, you know what you have to do."

He could feel the weight of her words as her breath fanned across the tips of his lips. He could almost taste the champagne mixing with the hint of her desire. Of course, there was only one thing she would want in exchange for her compliance. He had seen it in her eyes the moment he had pinned her between his blade and the balcony railing. While modeling could only ever be a temporary escape from reality, Hinamei's one wish had always been to indulge in some fantasy. It was why she thought herself untouchable because humans were weak and predictable and true monsters didn't exist. She thrived on danger as it brought her the closest to feeling truly alive. Time may have changed her bone structure, gifted her with long legs and curves, but one thing remained the same.

Izaya could feel his lips pull into a slow, easy smirk. "If that's what you want, all it takes is a call."

"You're bluffing," she whispered though her eyes had gone wide.

He chuckled as he sat upright a fished into his pocket. "You of all people should know I speak the truth," he said as he flipped open his phone. "If I do this, you'll do everything that I ask of you?"

She frowned at his conditions and seemed to consider it for a moment. "You know I won't do _everything_ but all that's in my power," she countered with a sideways smile. "What fun would any of this be if it were that easy?"

He held the phone to his ear as he offered her his other hand. "Is that a deal, Mori Hinamei?"

"I believe it is," she said as she took his hand in her own. She watched as his sneer grew appearing sinister from where she lay beneath him. Yet, she found no discomfort in being held down by the devil nor did she have any qualms in making a deal with him either. Izaya may be one of the most dangerous men in Ikebukuro but Hinamei was the most dangerous woman. And with the fearsome duo back on the same side, all would surely tremble in their wake.


	5. The Encounter

Hinamei feared that if her heart pounded any harder it would surely burst from within. She could hardly contain her excitement evident by the way she quickly slipped into some simple trainers and wrapped her robe tightly about her rather than seeking out appropriate attire. She eagerly followed Izaya out of the penthouse and into the night only questioning whether or not the informant could truly be trusted when he cut through a dark alley. She paused at the entrance as he waited from within, casting an impatient look over his shoulder.

"You can't tell me you're scared?" he taunted with a leer.

She frowned as she continued forward. "Of you? Hardly. Your associates may be another story."

"You've been out of the game for too long," he sighed as he turned fully towards her. "Don't tell me you're going soft. If that's the case, you're as useless as ever."

She pinched his nose between her fingers before she made to brush past him. "Don't taunt me, Izaya," she warned as he swatted her hand away. "Contrary to your own beliefs, Ikebukuro is still very much my city."

"And how can you say that when you so easily abandoned it?" When she froze in her tracks, Izaya knew that he had struck a nerve. At long last she would seethe and release that pent-up fury he had been expecting. She would spin around, throw him against the wall, and finally try to take the last shed of sanity he had left within him. She was a succubus that moved with the grace of a gazelle but proved to be as fatal as the prowling lioness.

Yet again she did not fulfill the informant's predictions but instead cast a wry smile back at him. Even she could not feign the obvious malice and hurt that shone in her eyes in spite of the forced smile. "If it took _that_ to make me leave before don't you think for a minute it will be any easier to get rid of me this time, Izaya."

Perhaps she'd fall victim to the same incident years before though even Izaya could not wish that upon her again. He was lucky enough to not have to voice this as relief came in the form of squealing tires. At the opposite end of the alleyway parked his reluctant transporter and evidently the one who would be Hinamei's "dream come true."

Izaya led her to the awaiting figure as he proceeded to acquaint the two. "Celty-san, this is Hinamei. She's the one I need you to take care.~"

The biker tensed and she drew out her phone to quickly type a message away. Whatever she wrote and showed to Izaya caused the informant to laugh and in turn, Hinamei to arch her brow in suspicion.

"Do what you want with her," Izaya said with a wave of his hand. "Just remember my conditions! And you don't have to worry about her saying a thing—she'll want you as a secret all to herself. She might even become jealous of having to share you with Shinra." Hinamei's ears perked at the familiar name. "But if she does happen to say anything…" In a flash, Izaya brandished his knife and pointed the blade towards Hinamei's mouth. "You have my word, Celty-san, that she'll be without a tongue. Silence suits her anyways!"

Hinamei frowned as she flicked the knife away from her face, ignoring Izaya as she acknowledged Celty. The biker flashed her a message that read, _"Are you ready?"_ to which Hinamei responded with a breathless "yes." Before Celty the chance to provide another text, Hinamei had climbed onto the back of the woman's bike and wound her arms about the biker's center. Initially perturbed by Hinamei's actions, Celty tried to relax as they kicked off at the sound of a horse's cry.

Just the thrill of the ride was nearly enough to satiate Hinamei's thirst for adventure. The way Celty effortlessly weaved between the other vehicles gave Hinamei a rush like no other. She found herself relinquishing her hold from the biker's waist and soon enough, she had her hands thrown in the air with the feeling of being quite free and alive. Had this action not set Celty into a panic, Hinamei probably would've gone further and stood fully on the seat and let the wind swoop her up so that she was truly flying. She laughed at the woman's tense reaction before she held fast to her again as they took a sharp turn. They slowed to a stop beneath a quiet overpass. Here, Celty parked the bike and Hinamei hopped off.

"So," Hinamei began as she smoothed out her hair. "Did Izaya pay you to kill me? If he did, I'll pay you double not to. I'm not sure I'm quite ready to die just yet."

Celty frantically waved her arms before she typed out a message. _"He's not trying to kill you!"_ She insisted before she provided another text. _"At least, that's not what he's asked of me."_

"Then are you my something extraordinary?" Though her eyes glittered with mischief, her brows were narrowed with suspicion.

_"What I show you might frighten you,"_ Celty warned. _"But believe me when I say that I mean you no harm."_ She appeared to take a deep breath as though to muster up courage. Her hands took up either side of her yellow helmet as she pulled it straight up and off. Hinamei's lips parted with a small sound of surprise as Celty revealed that she was without a head. Instead from her neck, a black vapor rose like inky smoke where a face should have been.

When Hinamei didn't respond, Celty drew out a quick message of apology as if her nature of being was truly offensive. Before she could manage to, the other woman broke into a frown as she tapped her chin quizzically.

"I suppose this explains why you don't talk," Hinamei said slowly. She took a step forward and circled about Celty. The biker went rigid under Hinamei's scrutiny though she soon eased as she discovered no disdain in the look but curiosity. Hinamei gave a small nod of approval before resting her hands upon her hips. "So you're the real deal, huh? A headless biker..." Celty wasn't sure what to say so she took to her silence. "I thought he was bluffing," Hinamei confessed. "You can never tell with Izaya, you know—the truth is subjective and the lies that he tells become his truths. And yet…" She held out her hand to where the black smoke spouted from the biker's neck as though to confirm what her eyes believed. "You truly aren't human, are you, Celty-san?

Celty seemed embarrassed apparent by her hesitation. She offered her phone's screen that read off her explanation. _"Some think of me as a fairy. Most consider me a dullahan."_

"Is that what you think you are?"

After a moment, she responded with a simple _"Celty."_ Hinamei gave a pleased smile. _"Without my head, this is all my body knows."_

"Well Celty," Hinamei said, "you're not quite the monster Iza-kun made you out to be. In fact, you seem quite docile really." Hinamei held out her pinky as she broke into a smirk. "But you certainly have caught my interest and I assure you your secret is safe with me. Be my something extraordinary, eh? I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Celty seemed to consider Hinamei's proposition and wondered what a comradery with the model would entail. She knew nothing of the woman save some obscure relationship with the devious informant. That alone should've pushed Celty out of Hinamei's reach and yet she was somehow drawn to her or as Hinamei had put it, Celty had taken interest. She wrapped her pinky to solidify the agreement to—dare she say it?—their friendship.

Hinamei's smirk turned into a bright smile as she danced around the dullahan towards the jet-black bike. "I heard it whinny," she confessed. "Is your bike a horse in disguise?" Celty confirmed Hinamei's notion with a simple affirmative. Hinamei lit up in absolute delight. "I am eager to learn more of your magic, Celty but I wouldn't want to scare you off so suddenly with my affection."

_"Then shall we go?"_ her message read to which Hinamei gave a reluctant "yes." She was quickly enthused with the prospect of blazing through the streets once more. This time when Hinamei held tight to the biker, the headless woman's tension was replaced with a sort of ease. It gave Hinamei the impression that if the woman had a mouth, she would be smiling somewhat endearingly. Before they set off, Celty offered one last message, _"I'll take the long way back."_

Much like before, the city flew by in a blur of beautiful lights. When Hinamei threw her arms open wide, Celty did not panic as if she somehow understood Hinamei's need for such a rush. There was something to this woman, something broken and black, that drove her to such lengths to surround herself with danger. Hinamei needn't voice it as it was plain for the dullahan to see for why else would anyone willing seek out the Headless Biker of Ikebukuro? If that wasn't odd enough, then her relationship with Izaya was.

Hinamei relished the way the wind whipped back her hair and she laughed through a wide smile even as Izaya fell into sight. His smirk, though ever irritating, could do nothing to take away the surreal high she was on in that moment.

As the bike came to its stop, Hinamei skipped off with an expression that one could confuse of someone stepping off of cloud nine. Izaya could feel the threat of a frown coming on just by the way her face radiated sheer joy. It unsettled him so as he was flashed back to so many years before.

He recalled a night of underage drinking and the ride back in her family's town car. She had the driver roll back the moon roof as she stood on the back seat and out of the top of the car. She threw her head back and laughed like god and back then, they both believed they were something divine. But soon enough, their mortality would be unveiled and Izaya would never forgive her for that. So he sneered at her as though to smother away any chance of happiness; the woman was scarcely deterred.

"You're a man of your word, Iza-kun," Hinamei smiled. "I must say, I am impressed."

Izaya closed his eyes and clenched his fists tucked into his pockets. "Don't forget we have a deal, Hina-chan," he reminded through a smirk. "Say goodbye to Celty-san. I need her well-rested for tomorrow morning."

Hinamei spun back to the biker and offered her hand. "Until next time, Celty-san. I had better see you soon.~" Though the sentiment was sweet there was an underlying threat that confirmed the dullahan's earlier beliefs. Hinamei was on a quest for thrills and Celty was her muse. The biker shook the model's hand before waving the duo off and peeling away.

Meanwhile, Izaya and Hinamei made their way back towards her building with the informant scowling all the while. He was sour though his façade boasted his usual arrongance. "Did it really mean that much to you?" he taunted as he calculated her reaction.

Hinamei adjusted her robe as her countenance finally faltered and her eyes glazed over with a far off memory. She tried to shake it off but the damage had been already been done; Izaya could not be fooled by the smile she forced across her lips. "More than you'll ever know," she spoke softly as she turned in without another word.

Izaya didn't understand how his words affected her in such a profound way. The woman had a way of twisting words, he reasoned. And yet, neither this nor his own ignorance was as bothersome as the way he had frowned at her sudden change in demeanor rather than sneering in content.

He distracted himself by scrolling through the contact list on his phone as he carved out his path home. When this proved ineffective, he flipped through the digital photo album and quite immediately regretted it. He should've expected to come across images of her vibrant face and how could he not (he hadn't deleted them even after all this time)? He roughly shoved the phone into his pocket before massaging his temples. Soon enough, he had become powerless to his first memory of Mori Hinamei.

* * *

_Past_

The hall was mostly empty by the time their meeting ended. Only the club members lingered though they skittered out of the infamous Mori Hinamei's path. She wondered if it was she that they truly feared or was it her father that towered high above them that sent them cowering? To her, Kine appeared harmless though she imagined his frown could be quite intimidating to a stranger. This, she supposed, would serve as yet another reason for the others to keep their distance from the young Mori.

Her father hadn't spoken to her since he arrived. Evidently, he was displeased by yet another display of her unruly conduct. She had tried to defend herself by saying that it wasn't as if she had disrespected a teacher (this time). The teacher's assistant, however, was another story.

"Won't you say something, papa?" she muttered in annoyance.

His expression soured considerably at her tone. He sighed before he spoke. "How many schools will you make me pay off before you stop with this foolishness?"

She scowled at once at his words as they headed towards her locker. "This time it wasn't my fault," she insisted as she switched out her shoes. "Mikage screwed with my grade! She's the reason I'm not top of the class!"

Kine pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now _why_ would an upperclassman do that?" He clearly was unconvinced.

Hinamei slammed her locker shut as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Because she wants Orihara-san to have higher marks! The guy rarely comes to school and yet he is still top of his class!"

Kine arched his brow at this accusation but did not relent. "Perhaps if you put as much effort into your studies as you do with your conspiracies, you wouldn't be second in your class."

"They're hardly conspiracies," Hinamei vehemently argued. "It's just the way it is! Mikage isn't the only one who'd do anything for Orihara-san—most of the girls are like in some kind of cult that sets him up as their idol." Her father shook his head in disbelief and Hinamei threw up her hands. "It's the truth! Why don't you believe me? That boy is even worse than Heiwajima! If anything, they're going to destroy this school together before I even get the chance to."

"Yet for some reason, I don't believe you," Kine sighed as he fended off the quivering grin. While his daughter's persistent troublemaking was quite taxing, Kine couldn't deny the sense of joy he got from riling her up when she fabricated such stories. She was an amusing girl, to say the least.

"Trust me, it's like their past time to leave the school in ruins," Hinamei scoffed.

As if to validate her point, a horrible metallic groan came from behind them then followed by a long roar of _"IIIIII-ZAAAA-YAAA!"_ Before Kine could even turn (Hinamei rather unfazed by the familiar outburst), a set of lockers went flying clear over their heads and landed in a crumbled pile not too far in front of them. Coincidentally, Hinamei's locker happened to be in this bunch as evidenced by her school shoes tumbling out from the rubbish. Hinamei gave her baffled father an "I told you so" look just as the enraged blonde that was Heiwajima Shizuo went charging past them. His target, Kine realized, could only be the raven haired boy that leaned against the school entrance, relaxed and arrogant by the way he smirked at his oncoming opponent.

"They fight on school grounds?" her father asked incredulously.

"Regularly."

"Those idiots," he seethed. "You could get hurt!"

Again, Hinamei scoffed and rolled her eyes but was otherwise smug now that her father had found truth in her story. Kine wasn't as pleased. In the same moment the boy drew a flickblade from his pocket and made to close the distance between himself and Shizuo, Kine was fueled with such rage at the prospect of his daughter being harmed (_and on school grounds!_) that he too surged towards the brawl. Hinamei blinked in surprise before she threw aside her school bag and chased after her father. She never thought her father to be an idiot (as anyone undoubtedly was to challenge Shizuo) but he surely didn't know who he was going up against if he thought he would stop the bull that was Heiwajima.

The Moris were gratefully blessed with incredible speed thanks to the long stride of their lengthy legs. At the moment of the prospective clash, the Moris managed to intervene with Kine's strength somehow managing to rival Heiwajima's, enough so that his fist did not make impact with its victim and instead was held tightly in Kine's own hand. At the same time, Hinamei had stood back to back with her father after smoothly disarming an unsuspecting Orihara Izaya. In one fluid movement, the girl had snatched at the boy's wrist and twisted it painfully so that he was forced to drop the blade. With her free hand, she had swiped the knife from its fall and pushed the boy back, pointing his own weapon at him to make it clear that she would go to any means to protect her father and herself should he choose to retaliate. His eyes flashed a hostile reddish-brown in the dying light as he frowned at the unexpected interruption. Shizuo seemed equally displeased though he seemed to calm down as he was unable to attack.

"Have you boys no shame? No decency to refrain from fighting on campus much less in front of a lady?" Kine scolded as he released his hold on Heiwjima.

Hinamei had become so distracted by the peculiar glint in Izaya's eye to realize that he had begun smirking at her, slowly and then all at once broadly. "With no disrespect, sir," he said as Kine watched him from over his shoulder. "But the lady hardly looks offended. If you asked me, I'd think she found the fight _enticing.~"_

Kine's gaze darted from the boy to his daughter and his frown deepened a bit. No one could deny the little curve of her lips and the glimmer of excitement that seemed to make her whole body glow. If they had looked any closer, they would find her hairs on end as her skin was raised in tingling goosebumps. Kine had always feared that Hinamei's outbursts in school were her way of crying out for attention but it was clear that this dilemma rooted more deeply than he originally thought. Hinamei didn't seek out danger in hopes of catching her parents' notice; she did it undoubtedly for the way it made her feel alive. Kine realized this then by the look on his daughter's face as she stood between two of Raijin's most dangerous delinquents, wielding a flickblade as though she had done so for all of her life.

Maybe he was to blame for raising his daughter in such an unforgiving environment. He had hoped that she would escape it when he had enrolled her in private schools only to find she had a feisty temper and a mean sucker-punch (amongst other unusual qualities for a child to possess). He supposed he had ignored it for too long and it wasn't until the schoolboy had verbally pointed it out to him. Kine's daughter was unlike any other and he wasn't the only one that day to take note.

Hinamei had clicked the blade back into itself before she offered it back to Orihara to take. He pocketed the thing as he gave her one last sneer. Hinamei's eyes narrowed as he gave a little "thanks" and turned on his heel to leave. He paused after a few steps and looked at her from over his shoulder. "It was nice meeting you, Mori-san! I'll keep an eye out for your daughter. Oh, and bye Shizu-chan!" She swore she could hear his laughter ringing even long after he left.

Shizou cleared his throat and caught both Moris' attention. He looked a bit uncomfortable though he still wore a scowl. "Sorry," he said as he scratched the back of his neck. Though he had only said one word, they knew he was quite sincere. Kine gave a nod of approval while Hinamei folded her hands across her chest.

"I think I understand why you do it," she said, catching both males off-guard. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Orihara-san is quite annoying. We need to work on your aim."

"Hinamei," Kine scolded as he grabbed at her arm and began to drag her away.

She grinned nonetheless and waved goodbye to Shizuo. "See you tomorrow, Shizu-chan!" She laughed as they clambered into the town car, oblivious to the pendulum they had set in swing.


	6. The Dependence

The ceiling above her spun in small, slow circles. The tingling feeling that had claimed her body just the night before had vanished in her sleep leaving her thoroughly numb. The tips of her fingers ghosted across her bottom lip as she gave a light sigh. Her curiosity, her wonder had all been satisfied and yet the high of it all had still left her empty. Her hand fell limply to her side, flopping on the wide bed. She watched as her fingers curled as though to speak for her heart that she was for all intents and purposes alive. She needn't turn to a mirror to know her eyes were dull as they flickered from her hand to the suitcase propped across the bedroom by the door. Her hand twitched as her mind bid the thing closer to no response. Amazing things existed outside of those four walls and while Hinamei swore that would be enough, she found herself yearning for so much more.

The door swung open then to a lanky figure with an angular silhouette. Many claimed that she and Anya were very much alike but to Hinamei, she was a sore replica with an even more distasteful personality. She wondered why she hadn't disposed of the woman already. She supposed she didn't need the bad publicity. She had tried to stay out of that light.

Anya leaned against the doorframe as she folded her arms across her chest. It wasn't the scowl she wore that caught Hinamei's attention but instead the handbag hanging from her sharp shoulder. She held her hand up expectantly to which the other woman scoffed. "You really picked a winner," Anya bit rather sourly. Her heels clicked as she approached the bed and shortly sunk into it. She tugged the bag off and set it in Hinamei's waiting palm. "I don't see the fascination. He's handsome but rude."

Hinamei set the bag on below her chest as she fished out her cellphone. She was relieved to find she hadn't missed too many important calls. "Rude is an understatement," she said blatantly as she scrolled through her messages. "If I recall, it was _you_ that suspected me of some infatuation with the boy. Izaya is not admirable. He's downright detestable."

Anya's nose crinkled in disgust. "Then why pine over him like some silly schoolgirl?"

Hinamei snapped her phone close at the same time her eyes shut. "You really are stupid, Anya. Thank goodness you are thin and pretty, otherwise you'd have nothing going for you." Anya snorted as she made to leave though Hinamei called for her to wait. Her pale blue eyes settled on the lone suitcase and Anya's scowl deepened. "I thought you kicked the habit?" Her tone was judgmental though she still fished through the contents of Hinamei's luggage.

"It's this city," Hinamei confessed. "It just gets to me." She didn't add that her rendezvous with the devious informant had only made matters worse.

Anya retrieved a gallon Ziploc baggie filled with a number of prescription bottles. The clinking of the pills against the plastic soothed Hinamei somehow. Soon enough, her whole world would come into focus in bright colors and fascinating shapes and again, she would feel almost whole.

Anya reclaimed her seat as she dug through the bag. She frowned as she sorted through the prescriptions, some in Hinamei's name while many others were not. "What's your poison for the day?"

She wanted to say 'all of them' but didn't need nor want Anya's reproachful glare. So instead, she made the request of 'Aplenzin' knowing once the other woman was out of sight, she would add a few other pills to her daily fill.

Anya originally shook out one capsule into the palm of her hand. As she took note of Hinamei's state, her frowned deepened as she reconsidered and offered her another. There was no need to offer a glass of water; many of the models had become accustomed to throwing back pills, liquor, amongst other unpleasant things. She watched as Hinamei threw the pills back and she appeared complacent, eyes closed as she waited for the effects to nestle in.

"You saw him, didn't you?" Anya asked after a moment with a tone of accusation.

Hinamei's brows furrowed though she didn't open her eyes to respond to Anya's question. "I'm an adult," she defended after a moment.

Again, Anya scoffed. "We may not know each other well, we probably never will, but I do know one thing, Hinamei," Anya said as she rose. Hinamei finally looked at her as a bit of blueness returned to her pale eyes. "All those years ago, you left here for a reason. Don't let that become an excuse for you to torture yourself to stay." She closed the door behind her as she made her leave.

Hinamei stared at the spot she disappeared from, even long after Anya was gone. Her attention averted from this spot on the door to her hand as her hazy world slowly slunk into focus. Anya had every right to be concerned but Izaya was the least of Hinamei's worries. Sure, he was merciless and had the tendency to be annoying but Hinamei could never fear something she understood. Her fingers curled in slowly again before it clenched into a tight fist.

Izaya was no monster but a man masquerading in one. No, a true demon existed in those that we all least expect it.

Her knuckles turned white and she could feel her flesh tearing under the sharp corners of her nails. It was if she curled in tighter to herself that she would be able to hold everything together and not fall apart. She feared her bottom lip would bust under the pressure of her teeth biting into it. Even her eyes had begun to hurt as she squeezed the lids tightly shut. She could feel the heat burning from behind and despite her efforts, she had begun to cry hot, angry tears. A short, mangled cry tore from her chest and vibrated harshly in her throat before she choked for air and hazardly began to breathe. When the tears fell from her vision and the world became clear once more, she sighed and wiped at her damp cheeks before she dug into the Ziploc bag for more medicated relief.

* * *

_Past_

Hinamei's smirk was quite smug as her gaze settled on Mikage. The teacher's assistant gathered up her belongings quickly, averting her eyes from the underclassman to the contents on her desk with a glower. Hinamei had overheard that the girl had taken up some martial arts classes. It would do her better if she simply didn't favor one student over the others.

Hinamei couldn't help but chuckle as the brunette shuffled past her wordlessly and embarrassed. At her chortle, the teacher short her a warning look making the sophomore's grin falter into an annoyed scowl. She settled into her seat without another sound as she stared out the window in disinterest. History wasn't exactly her favorite course.

As the instructor droned with his lecture Hinamei didn't care to tune into, she felt her skin begin to prickle under a prying eye. She frowned at the instructor only to find his back to her as he scribbled notes across the whiteboard instead of shooting daggers at her as she expected. If not him, then who was responsible for the searing holes forming in the back of her head? She scanned the room and she grimaced as a certain boy fell into view. His smirk inexplicably unnerved her, even more so when he gave a seemingly innocent wave. She huffed and spun around in her seat as she plopped her chin onto her hand and scowled at the clouds drifting outside past the window.

How annoying, she thought, to have a stalker. There was no other way to describe Orihara Izaya. For what other reason had the delinquent gone through the trouble of switching into her class but to, as he said, 'keep an eye on her?' Now Mikage had all the more reason to meddle with Hinamei's grade whilst adding points to that of Izaya's. And here her father thought that _she_ was a troublemaker! At least she wasn't conniving.

As the bell rung, she gathered up her belongings and quickly shuffled out the door to avoid her new pest. Unfortunately, Izaya somehow managed to weave between the throng of students and suddenly appeared at her side. When she glowered at her unwanted companion, he smirked easily in return and looked as though he'd laugh.

"Don't look so excited to see me, princess," he said through his leer. "I did, after all, do this for you.~"

Hinamei scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I forgot that I asked to be bothered by your presence, Orihara-san," she bit in sarcasm. "Please forgive me."

"Izaya," he corrected. "You don't seem as appreciative as I thought. Is my attention not what you wanted?"

"Don't you for a minute try to convince me that this was anything but what _you_ wanted." Where there was trouble, Izaya was often found. Hinamei wanted nothing to do with him. She was perfectly capable of wreaking havoc all on her own.

He placed his hand over his heart and feigned hurt. "And here, I thought you liked me, Hina-chan!"

"Don't mistake me for one of your admirers," she growled out as she pinched his cheek roughly. His grin only widened as he rubbed his sore cheek.

"You're much more interesting than any of them."

"I have no desire to be one of your 'interests.'"

"Oh c'mon, you should be flattered! You're on my good side."

"I don't want to be on _any_ of your sides," Hinamei snapped as her hand rounded the doorknob to her next class. "Much less have anything to do with you." Izaya cocked his head to the side as if he were unconvinced. "Is your head so far up your ass that you seriously believe that I'd want anything to do with you?"

"Yes."

"You're unbelievable." She slipped inside and slammed the door right in Izaya's smug face. She had easily become thoroughly annoyed with the delinquent's antics. He had some nerve to make such wild assumptions and she hoped her defiance would drive him away. She didn't know what had drawn him to her in the first place and she really didn't care to know. She swore that she would squash all of his inhibitions to remind him of her own lack of interest in him.

"Oy, Hinamei-chaaaan!" She supposed she should be grateful for the distraction Shinra would serve. However she didn't think the irritation he would impose would be of any relief of that Izaya had. Nonetheless, she made a straight-line to the quirky bespectacled boy and placed her belongings in the seat next to his. He seemed particularly excited to see her by the way he bounced beside his seat. Maybe he was eager to start on their lab for the day. Even so, his behavior was odd. "I hear you made quite a scene yesterday."

Of course, that was what had the boy so hyped to see her. While any tiffs between Izaya and Shizuo were common subjects of gossip, to throw the infamous Mori Hinamei and her father into the mix seemed to make the topic juicier. And here, Hinamei thought Shinra to be above such childish behavior.

"If anything, I was making a point," she explained as she detailed what exactly had gone down.

Shinra shook his head in disbelief of her luck. "And how is it that the school isn't holding you liable for the destruction?"

"Because Heiwajima."

Shinra's mouth rounded on a long 'oh.' The blonde appeared then as if his name being spoken had somehow summoned him. Hinamei almost forgot that they had a class together seeing as he was frequently absent. The look on his face made it apparent that he would rather have been anywhere else but school. Shinra eagerly greeted the boy much like he had Hinamei not long before. He too seemed annoyed by Shinra's enthusiasm but settled into the desk behind him.

"So what's the verdict?" the bespectacled brunette asked.

Shizuo frowned as he muttered, "pending."

Hinamei's brows raised. "Say, how many times have you been found guilty?" Shizuo was almost surprised at the realization that she was in the same class. Funny how he never noticed until after he had quite nearly incapacitated her and her father the day before with a row of lockers. As if she read his mind, she said, "don't worry, I've forgiven you for ruining my shoes. Well?"

He scratched at the nape of his neck as he considered his response. "Four times," he answered, "amongst other charges."

"What about you, Hinamei-chan?" Shinra asked with a grin.

"All cases dropped," she said smugly. "The perks of being on the student government." A thought suddenly occurred to her as she turned back to Shizuo. "I have a proposition for you." He looked at her quizzically. "You keep accumulating charges and soon enough, you'll be expelled."

His arms clenched as his hands curled into tight fists. "It's not my fault! It's that damn _flea,"_ he growled out.

Hinamei bit back laughter at the peculiar name. Suiting, she figured, for such a meddlesome pest like Izaya. "He's manipulative," Hinamei agreed, "and knows how to avoid charges himself. I'm sure the whole school understands he's the instigator but are always swayed by his words. But I'd like to think I'm different. I'd like to help you Heiwajima."

He looked unsure. "You'd go up against that bastard?"

"Oh no," she laughed, "I'll leave that to you. But I can assure you that anytime you choose to pummel him, any charges they try to stick to you will be immediately dismissed."

"You have that power?" he asked incredulously.

She smirked. "And so much more. If I wasn't an underclassman, I would've been elected as president. Doesn't mean I don't have any pull."

"And what is it that you want in return?"

"You keeping that flea," she laughed at the name, "occupied is payment enough. I'll keep you out of trouble if you keep him out of my hair."

"With pleasure," Shizuo growled out.

"Then I think we have ourselves a deal."

Satisfied with their terms, both faced the front of the classroom just as the instructor walked in. He divided up the students into partners for the dissection lab. Hinamei happened to be paired up with Shizuo and though he had been absent for quite some time, she easily found pleasure in their alliance. Yet, while Hinamei had taken interest in Heiwajima Shizuo, it seemed that elsewhere, her own father had his eyes set on none other than Orihara Izaya.


	7. The Setback

It hadn't taken long for regret to settle into the pit of Izaya's stomach, churning at such a nauseating pace that he was forced to take up a second cup of coffee. The buzzing sensation that ensued did nothing to quell the uneasy feeling. He was sure the caffeine only intensified the way his heart pounded in his chest, the way his blood flowed through his veins at an angry pace. He could hear his own pulse thudding loudly in his ears, even over the sounds of the bustling Ikebukuro streets. He blamed the long-legged succubus for making him feel this way. Had she just returned _one_ of his calls, he wouldn't have suspected her a victim of the black market.

Hadn't he told her to expect him the next morning or was Hinamei so dense? Maybe she had drunken herself into a stupor and was lying in bed in a daze. Typical Hinamei, Izaya thought with a nasty scowl. Or perhaps he was right to think her so weak at heart and after they had parted ways, she had booked the red-eye to New Zealand. That notion unnerved Izaya just as much as the thought of her being snatched up.

While Akabayashi had assumed Hinamei was the best route to finding Kine, Izaya already had his doubts. Hinamei was unreliable (she was a lush and subject to the likes of stalkers and kidnappers) and Izaya had no interest in reigniting her _own_ interest in himself. As the idiom goes, "what's done is done" and Izaya had no intention of repeating the past. No matter how much he taunted her—and would undoubtedly continue to—Hinamei was right to leave when she had. Ikebukuro ultimately would've destroyed her had she chosen to stay, that much was clear as Izaya strolled into her apartment building.

As he reached her penthouse, he rapped on the door roughly to no response and didn't bother to wait for one as he let himself in. He imagined if she hadn't fled (or been dragged out of) the country, she'd be out on the patio with a mimosa in hand. Her legs would stretch out for miles across the sofa as she basked in the morning star. Her lips would curl over her white teeth slowly, mocking him as he discovered her. Her eyes would narrow ever so slightly, in a way most would say was provocative though he knew 'predatorily' fit best. She would bite her thumb to hold back her laughter to of course, no avail. She would be laughing at him, at his foolishness for ever thinking she'd go along with his plan. She had gotten what she wanted and would be more than happy to continue existing as though they had never met.

She would have succeeded in frustrating the informant yet again. But Mori Hinamei was nowhere to be found.

His jaw clenched in annoyance as he slammed her bedroom door shut behind him. Whatever game she was playing, it was apparent she was taking it much too far. She of all people should know better than to cross the demon of Shinjuku. By the time he was through with her, she would be begging to be kidnapped than have to work another day alongside him.

He made one final attempt to reach her as he flipped his cell open and dialed. Not a moment later, the quiet of the flat was filled with incessant buzzing and Izaya nearly groaned as he followed the sound to the source. He seized her vibrating phone from its spot on the kitchen island and growled a curse under his breath. Leave it to Hinamei to get snatched up _and_ leave her phone behind. Hadn't she watched any movies or did she expect to leave her fate in the hands of some unlikely hero? Izaya had no intention of wishing her any luck. Instead, he pocketed her phone and headed down to the lobby and back into the streets of Ikebukuro.

Maybe it was best Hinamei be kidnapped for all the trouble she surely was worth. Even if Izaya managed to find her (which he, by every means, could), who was to say that something like this wouldn't happen again? Izaya wasn't so desperate for her help to extend out protection on her behalf and he certainly wouldn't have her under the same roof for any so-called convenience. If he waited long enough, someone would report her as a missing person and the media coverage would draw out Kine from his hiding place. Hinamei's abduction would make Izaya's task simpler—his headache would be gone and Kine would be found. As he hailed a cab, he began to plot while repressing any sense of obligation to Hinamei's well-being. But just when he thought he had been rid of her, her voice called out his name.

He soured at once at the sight of her full lips pulled into a wide grin. Her chest, bound only by a sport's bra, heaved up and down in shuddering breaths as she slowed from a jog to a stop. Her lean body glistened with a veil of sweat, like little Swarovski crystals against the taut flesh. His hands curled into tight fists within his pockets as something like envy festered from deep inside his core. How was it, he wondered, that someone as detestable as Hinamei could challenge the beauty of Aphrodite? She didn't deserve the innocence her expression boasted, the way her whole face seemed to light up like a thousand suns just at the sight of _him_. The dangerous smolder that brought her to fame was the only look Izaya believed suited her. It was but a taste of the darkness that painted her insides. It was a look into what Hinamei truly was made of.

He had hoped when she swiped the sweat away from her face with a towel, her smile would be taken along with it. Instead, she continued to look on to him as though he were some new age Messiah and not the man that had held a blade to her throat on numerous occasions. "If you're so opposed to standing out on the sidewalk like some_ commoner_, Iza-kun," she begun with a laugh, "you could have easily waited up in my apartment I'm sure you've made a habit of breaking into." There was no use in denying that he had in fact allowed himself in again.

Izaya drew out her phone from his pocket then wagged it in her face. "I've been calling you all morning," he sighed in annoyance through that condescending smirk. "I thought you might've been kidnapped and my prayers had been answered.~"

Hinamei rolled her eyes though her smile never faltered as she took her phone into her possession. "So sorry to disappoint," she said mockingly. "I hope you can forgive me, oh dearest master."

She made to walk past him then but he stepped in her way and held her still by clamping his hands to her shoulders. "Let's not make it a habit then, hmm? I'm not done with you just yet.~" His voice still had those playful notes but did nothing to cover the threat. Hinamei was more frustrated than concerned by his words as she swiftly pinched at his cheek and effectively rid him of his smirk.

"Stop trying to sound so scary," she said, "It doesn't much suit you, Iza-kun."

He swatted her hand away at once before rubbing the sore spot. "Who doesn't carry their phone on them anyways?" he complained then. "Is your life really so boring?"

"Yes," she said without missing a beat. "And besides, now you're here!"

Izaya swore he could feel his blood curdle at the woman's audacity. So he had been right to think her ignoring his calls was some ploy to wheedle her way under his skin. He would never admit it but this time around, Hinamei was truly successful. Perhaps that could explain the triumphant grin she still wore. His hands fell from her shoulders as one took her tightly by the wrist. He closed his eyes and minded his breathing in hopes he could feign composure instead of revealing the true rage that brewed underneath. He forced a confident smirk upon his lips but didn't dare to look her in the eyes lest she use that little superpower of hers and see through his deceit. He wouldn't have Hinamei reign victorious, no matter how insignificant the feat.

"Playtime is over, Hina-chan," he cooed. He pulled her roughly as he motioned for another cab. "I need you to make yourself useful now—" He was cut off by her sudden scream of his name and her abrupt pull on his arm. Had she waited a moment longer, they both would've been crushed by the metal postal box that was thrown in the place they had stood. Aggravation marred Izaya's expression but for once the sentiment wasn't reserved for the irksome model. Instead, his attention was drawn across the street just as the sound of the sidewalk guards screeched out as they were yanked free from the ground.

If Izaya had been filled with fury before, nothing compared to the way he felt as he beheld Heiwajima Shizuo. Hatred was something reserved for fairytales but nothing seemed as fitting to describe the duo. From the moment they had first seen each other, there was a passion between them unlike any other. Even the way he felt towards Hinamei was vastly different from how Heiwajima unsettled him. Shizuo was base, an anomaly Izaya would never care nor want to understand. In that moment the same as any other, Izaya only wanted to completely ruin Shizuo and the feeling was evidently mutual.

He felt his lips twitch into a wicked grin as he drew out his flickblade in his hand. Shizuo would surely serve as the perfect outlet to relieve the frustration Hinamei had created. He half-expected her to tug on his sleeve, to coax him against fighting but instead she blinked owlishly at the opposing figure. "Is that Heiwajima?" she finally asked and Izaya nearly laughed. Was she really that daft or could she truly mistake the brute for any other?

"Yes," Izaya growled out as he waited for the blonde to strike. "And as much as I'd like to be rid of you," he finally diverted his attention from the blonde to the woman at his side, "you'll do you best to stay out of the way. Your ruin will be by my hands only, is that understood?"

Hinamei snorted, "Unlikely," before turning to the blonde herself. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "_Shizuuuuu-chaaaaaan!"_ She waved ecstatically and to Izaya's surprise, the blonde stopped to stare at the woman incredulously. It was apparent to the cowering pedestrians that either Hinamei was mentally unstable, had a death wish, or a combination of the two. Izaya's bet was on the latter.

For a moment they believed Shizuo would forfeit this round of cat-and-mouse until he snatched up the guardrail even more fervently. He bellowed out Izaya's name, broken down into long syllables and pulled the rail free from its bolts. Izaya shot Hinamei an accusatory look for having further provoked the bull. She merely laughed before she was flung out of the way of the oncoming projectile.

"Hope you still have a few lives left, kitten-chan," Izaya taunted as she stood and dusted herself off.

"I think I'll manage but do have fun," she said with a threatening grin.

Izaya responded with a cocky smirk of his own before surging forward to close the gap. He swiftly dodged the brute's heavy blows along with the oncoming traffic. If she hadn't known any better, Hinamei would've suspected the two of organizing the show. They moved around each other with a sort of graceful synchronization. Just when one was expected to be hit, the other would easily dance out of the other's way. Even the cars that sped past them swerved away in perfect arcs. At this point, Shizuo and Izaya were hardly dodging traffic more so than the drivers were avoiding _them_.

All at once, the seamless harmony fell away to absolute chaos. One brave truck plowed through the mess and straight into the fearsome blonde. Hinamei's eyes grew wide and she held her breath as Shizuo tumbled out of sight. Izaya stood at center stage, tall and rigid before his whole body quivered with his boisterous laughter. The cars that had stopped at once with drivers torn between scurrying away or extending help revved to life again and quickly went on their way. They knew much better than the watching tourists that a bomb was ticking to its end at the front of the unfortunate truck.

The driver clambered out of his seat and hurried to the man he had effectively run over. Hinamei rushed to Izaya's side to get a better look. "Do you think he's dead?" she whispered feverishly, attention jumping from the crumpled form of Shizuo to the madman beside her.

"Who do you mean, Shizu-chan or the man that ran him over?"

Before Hinamei could clarify, the man's holler cut through the air. Shizuo grabbed him by his collar and with a loud roar, spun him around and threw him right over Hinamei and Izaya's heads. A loud crunch sounded as the man crashed into some parked car behind them, groaning. They turned back to the enraged blonde who had steadied himself to his feet, sight dead set on the sneering Izaya. His blood thirst rolled off of him in thick, hot waves and from where Hinamei stood grinning, she could feel the wrath he was about to unfold. The towering man shook in his rage as cry tore through him. _"IIIIIIII-ZAAAAA-YAAAA!"_

"Should we run?" Hinamei proposed.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said that smirk.

In the same moment Shizuo seized the very truck that had struck him down, Izaya took Hinamei by the wrist and weaved through the throng of scattering pedestrians. As a loud crash came just at their heels, Izaya looked to the woman in tow expectantly but she neither flinched nor appeared worried. Rather, her face had broken into childlike glee; could she really be that excited at the prospect of nearly dying? He nearly shook his head in disbelief but could do nothing to the smirk upon his own lips.

"You're enjoying this," he noted as he tugged her into a side street. She nearly stumbled over and surely would have if she had been wearing Louboutins rather than her trainers. That offending grin only widened and Izaya frowned as he yanked her into the next street. By the loud cries from somewhere behind him, it was apparent they hadn't lost Shizuo. "I blame you for this, you know," he quipped as he pulled her through the traffic. His smirk bubbled to the surface as her pulse raced as they dashed between the speeding cars. "You know that pet name only provoked him. He's after me as much as he's after you."

Hinamei laughed once before she caught her balance as Izaya once again pulled her into another direction. "That's hardly true! _You_ were the one who tormented him in high school and even some years after. You are the reason he lost that job, the one at the upscale bar?"

Izaya leered in response as he led them into an alleyway. There he finally released her and moved towards the fire escape, quickly yanking down the ladder. He patted his hands clean before turning to Hinamei expectantly. She raised her eyebrows with a shake of her head and promptly folded her arms across her chest. "Don't act so coy, Hina-chan," he teased as his eyes narrowed in challenge. "Your doorman told me he didn't see you leave this morning. Obviously you're no stranger to fire escapes.~"

She huffed indignantly and shuffled in her spot. "That was to avoid the paparazzi; not Death, the Blonde-Headed Man."

A few pedestrians ran by the mouth of the alley and Izaya hoisted himself up the first rung. "Suit yourself," he said flippantly. "Stick around and test your theory. I'm _sure_ Shizu-chan will spare you." He began to climb but not without catching the way she blanched at his words. As a crash sounded from not too far off, Hinamei hesitated no longer and followed Izaya up the ladder. When they made it the first landing, she scowled at the triumphant look he shot her way. "Guilty, as suspected," he said as he motioned her to go ahead of him. "You're just as much to blame as I am in Heiwajima's 'torment.' You paid him to keep us apart and antagonizing him was the _only_ way to get your attention." He noted the way she tutted in disapproval but otherwise did not deny his claims. "This all could've been avoided if you simply were like any other girl."

She stopped in her ascent to cast him a peculiar look from over her shoulder. "Isn't that what you always liked about me?"

He sent her a reproachful glare as he motioned for her to keep climbing. "Don't be ridiculous," he bit out. "You caught my interest, not my _fancy_, at best."

"You were 'interested' in me then because I was different?"

"Unusual," Izaya corrected. "Most schoolgirls quickly fell for my charm. You were just a stubborn outlier. I would've never pursued you had you not insisted on ignoring me after we met." When they finally reached the rooftop, he took note of the smugness his words incited within her. He closed his eyes in hopes of appearing condescending lest he encourage her conceit. "Don't flatter yourself, Hina-chan. That interest was only short-lived. After I got what I wanted and learned you were nothing more than a headache, fighting Heiwajima was once again for sport, rather than for you."

She ran her hands through her hair as she redid her high ponytail. "How barbaric," she mused. "Fighting for a lady's attention."

He waved her off again as he walked to the opposite ledge of the building, gauging the distance between the rooftops. "You were hardly a lady," he said. "Just a girl with only a sense for fancy shoes."

"Seems I've rubbed off," she quipped under her breath. She grinned madly when he glowered in annoyance.

"Enough," he growled as he seized her wrist. "Get ready to jump." Hinamei's eyes grew wide at his command but Izaya knew it was not from fear but excitement. He could feel her heart racing once again beneath his fingers curled tight around her wrist. It had been a long time since they last found themselves in a similar situation. They had always been so recklessly bold and as they took a few paces back and launched themselves across the wide chasm, it was as though nothing had changed. Wide, confident smiles spread across their faces and a laugh blossomed from Hinamei's lips. The sensation of only the air beneath their feet, the way their stomachs fluttered with the fall, had both informant and model in a state of bliss that neither could explain. That moment, only but a few seconds long, felt like some endless summer where the sunset was eclipsed by Izaya's form and Hinamei's face was lit up with its brilliant light. At the time, they defied all because they thought themselves like god and everyone would've believed them if only Hinamei could've kept up the façade. But she was no deity nor cherub, just a frail human that exuded a dark sort of sensuality.

As their feet found purchase on the other side and they stumbled as though they had never stood tall, they turned to one another with their faces betraying their truths. Izaya had known Hinamei much too long to believe her delight could come without pain yet she beamed at him, stricken with a fit of laughter, and god, did she look divine. And though he wore his own smirk proudly, all annoyance with the woman forgotten, Izaya could not deny the sick feeling that was growing something hideous within his tar black soul. They had been so wrong to think themselves holy when they were anything but.

* * *

**Author's Note: So sorry about the late update! I've had a lot on my plate this past month and my stories are suffering as a result. Hope you've enjoyed this installment though! I tried to make a bit longer.**

**-EC**


	8. The Start

For Izaya to say he was frustrated would be a sore understatement. Shaking off Shizuo had only been the tip of the iceberg; Hinamei occupied the majority of the mass. He found himself wishing she _had_ been abducted if it would spare him from her complaints. The woman had the audacity to drag him back to her penthouse, insisting she change. He had eyed her up and down and gave an indignant "no," supposing it wouldn't matter if she was dressed like a tart. Clearly, it didn't sit well with the model, neither the insult nor the prospect of being paraded around in spandex. He relented the moment she seized his cheek and pinched it tightly between her fingers. What was another hour lost after Shizuo's interruption? Izaya would be behind schedule regardless.

It was how he found himself plopped in the center of her bed as Hinamei slipped in for a quick shower. He considered seizing the bag from the trash bin beside the bed and sneaking into the restroom to tie it around her head. He grimaced at the thought of her claws digging into him, dragging along the length of his arms. Too risky, he decided as he flipped open his phone. He didn't need his DNA kept as evidence beneath her nails.

He scrolled through his calendar and took note of his appointments. Thankfully, he hadn't missed anything too pressing. There was a meeting with those girls, the ones with a suicide pact, but he was sure he could reschedule later. He had meant to stop by the hospital an hour earlier but the girl would have to wait. Though his day seemed trivial for the most part, he still wasn't pleased with the setbacks. He would have to make his lost time worth it as he considered which meetings to make. He glossed over his agenda and settled on a contact, pulling up his information at once. He sneered at the description and found himself content with the prospect of brightening his day.

"Hinaaa-chaaan," he called to no response. "Save some water for the fish!"

"I hate fish," she hollered as she twisted off the water. She stepped out of the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a white towel. "And so do you, Iza-kun. Stop pestering me."

"Are you ready?" he sighed though he knew she clearly wasn't. He was already regretting not suffocating her when he had the chance.

She bubbled her lips as she ran a brush through her wet locks. "They say 'patience is a virtue.'"

"And I have none."

"Patience or virtues?"

"Neither."

Hinamei laughed. "You're a pain, did you know that? Like a rotten child."

He clapped his hands irritably as she padded to her closet. "And you're like a dying tortoise," he whined. "Can't you move any faster? You're not even wearing heels."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she shimmied into her panties. "Don't you clap at me like I'm some animal, Izaya. I will tear off those hands straight from your wrists."

"Ooh, scary.~" He snorted in sarcasm. "I have a schedule to adhere to. Hurry up or I'll drag you around Ikebukuro half-naked."

"Doesn't seem too unlike you," Hinamei quipped with an infuriating wink. "There, I'm dressed. Are you happy now?"

"Delighted," he bit as he rose to his feet. He shrugged on his coat as Hinamei scrambled into her shoes. He was mildly impressed she hadn't tried to slip into Jimmy Choos. He probably would've spared his flickblade and used the heel instead to drive it through her thick skull. Another day, he supposed as he led the way out of her apartment. He flagged down a cab to take them to their location, a quiet diner on the outskirts of town. His client had been the one to propose the spot, stating it was in their best interest lest someone overhear them.

As the taxi pulled to a stop, Izaya slid out, leaving a scowling Hinamei to take care of the tab. "Ever the gentleman, I see," she commented and he chuckled from his nose.

"This is the twenty-first century; no need to be chivalrous. You seemed to pay fine all on your own.~"

She rolled her eyes but said nothing more, following him into the building. It was a modest place with very few prying eyes. Izaya easily spotted his client in a corner booth to itself. "Come," he ordered Hinamei, nodding towards the opposite end of the restaurant. She scoffed but was otherwise obedient, heading in the direction he had gestured.

The person at the table appeared to be pretty young, perhaps in his final year of high school. He had these big brown eyes and fidgety hands that seemed to quiver even more at the sight of Izaya. He jumped to his feet and offered out his hand. "O-orihara I-Izaya," the boy said stammered. "Na-nakahara Reiji! Th-thank you for meeting with me." Izaya disregarded the greeting and settled into the booth, much to Reiji's chagrin. He flushed in embarrassment before turning to Hinamei, seemingly taken aback by her presence. "Are you Mori Hinamei?" he asked quietly, blinking slowly as though his sight was wrong.

She nodded as she motioned to Izaya. "Yes, I'm here to—_ah!_"

She was cut off when Reiji eagerly seized her hand. "So it is you!" he chirped. "I thought so. What a wonderful surprise! I look forward to your upcoming feature in that film with Hanejima!"

"Uh…"

"Oh, of course. It's all speculation right now, isn't it? But you would be absolutely radiant on the big screen, Miss Mori!"

"So, you're a fan, I see. How unexpected," Hinamei said with an uncomfortable laugh. "Would you mind keeping this between us? This isn't exactly the kind of extracurricular activity my manager would like me having."

If possible, Reiji's eyes widened in sheer excitement before he nodded his head, enthusiastically. "A secret with Miss Mori? How could I resist! Anything for you! Anything, anything."

She chuckled uneasily before she slid beside Izaya, the latter glowering at the annoying exchange. "Now that we're past pleasantries," he muttered pointedly at Hinamei. "Shall we get to business?"

Reiji's countenance sobered up as he took his own seat, folding his shaking hands on the table in front of him. "We thought we had defeated the Blue Squares some time ago but it seems their numbers are on the rise again. No one has heard from our leader and many think he's dead. But we have reason to believe you may know where he is. You were the last to get in contact with him."

"And how would you repay me if I told you I do?" Izaya asked as sunk into the booth and threw his arm across the back. "You don't exactly look like the type with loads of money. Honestly, you don't look much like a gangster at all, apart from that silly thing around your neck."

Hinamei's brows shot upward as though in surprise. "You're in a color gang?" she asked incredulously. She too, evidently, found it hard to believe.

The boy grinned a bit as he tugged at his bandanna. "Yellow Scarves," he said proudly in response. "We're the reigning color gang in Ikebukuro, Miss Mori."

"But not for long without your leader, hmm, Reiji-kun?~" Izaya's taunting wiped the smugness clear off the boy's face. He looked away defeated, unable to deny it. Izaya wondered how Reiji would react if he told him their leader was a coward, a foolish middle schooler in way over his head. He imagined the boy's expression molding from confusion to rage, incensed with the knowledge their whole gang was some child's play. He bet Reiji would demand to know Masomi's whereabouts just so he could kick the punk's teeth in. Wouldn't that be a grand spectacle to see? If only Reiji wasn't so like his leader, another sniveling brat.

"I know you must think I have nothing of value to give," Reiji murmured as he absentmindedly twiddled his thumbs. "And if you asked for money, than you would be correct. But I do think I have something of worth to."

"Oh?" Izaya challenged. "And what's that?"

"Dirt," Reiji contended as he gauged the informant's reaction. "In exchange for our leader's location, I'll provide you with some information."

Izaya exchanged a look with Hinamei before he threw his head back in laughter. "I'm an _informant_, you stupid kid," he cackled. "What makes you think I don't already _know_ what you want to say?"

Reiji blanched in mortification and waved his hands around fervently. "I-I didn't meant to insult you, O-Oriha-arah-s-san! I just can't imagine you having intel on the Blue Squares."

When Izaya kept laughing, Reiji looked pleadingly to Hinamei who gave a little huff. "Maybe you shouldn't mock your clients, Iza-kun. It's not exactly what you call a 'good business practice.'"

Izaya's chuckles died away and he wiped at his eyes before he set his elbows on the table and rested his chin upon his hands. "You're lucky you've entertained me otherwise I would've left." Reiji nodded his head in appreciation. "As for this exchange of information, I'm afraid you'll have to pay upfront. It wouldn't be very fair if I already had your knowledge, now would it?"

"I-I understand."

"Well?"

Reiji glanced around before taking a deep inhale and scooting in closer to the table lest somebody hear them. "The Blue Squares know you're a double-crosser and fed our leader confidential information. They blame you for the fall of their gang."

"Go on."

"They're planning a coup, when you'd least expect it, to get back at you for what you've done."

Izaya kept his sight trained on Reiji before flickering his attention to Hinamei. "Well?" he prompted to which she shrugged.

"It's ambiguous but I know he's telling the truth." She studied Reiji carefully. "He's nervous—"

_"Clearly,"_ Izaya muttered under his breath.

"Too much so to be dishonest. You can trust anything he has to say."

Reiji released the breath he was holding and flashed Hinamei a grateful look. Izaya nearly scowled at the boy's audacity; he had _nothing_ to be thankful for yet.

"While you've undoubtedly given me some _interesting_ information, I'm afraid Hina-chan is right." Izaya sneered the very moment Reiji seemed to cower, fearing their meeting was all a bust. "What you've told me is hardly what you'd call 'useful' and doesn't necessarily warrant a response. Maybe you should dig harder and think of something better to say instead of sitting here and wasting my time.~" Izaya indicated he was ready to leave, scooting Hinamei from the seat. She glowered at him though he paid her no mind, waving goodbye and good riddance to a sputtering and pale Reiji.

Izaya didn't bother to see if Hinamei had followed; he didn't want her to ruin his pleasant mood. It was probably the first time since the model's arrival that Izaya wasn't filled with the desire to bash her face in. Perhaps the arrangement wouldn't be so difficult so long as they were preoccupied with assignments. But alas, he knew his merriment wouldn't last while the succubus that was Mori Hinamei roamed the earth.

"Well that was boring," Hinamei muttered as she stepped off the curb to hail a cab. "When did your work get so uninteresting? We're getting too old for this."

"Forgive me, Hina-chan. I forgot I was born to entertain you."

"You're forgiven just once. I expect you not to make this a habit."

Izaya rolled his eyes as he slipped into the car and immediately flipped open his phone. "I have half a mind to cancel my appointments today and get to the bottom of what that kid said."

Hinamei looked amused as she glanced up from her own phone. "I suppose not all of what he said was useless?"

Izaya considered throwing her out of the car for smiling at him so smugly. As luck would have it, she'd undoubtedly survive and come back to him, more annoying than ever. "Well he certainly _piqued_ my interest."

"Just not enough for something in return. How cruel."

"What? Did you find a heart while you were away in Italy and sympathize with clients now?"

Hinamei snapped her phone shut and glared peevishly at the informant. "Sometimes it's probably best that you bite your tongue."

Izaya laughed once. "I don't take advice from the likes of you.~"

Hinamei crawled into Izaya's space and sharply pinched his nose. "But don't you, Iza-kun? That is why you sought me out, for my superpower?"

He tore her hand away, clutching tightly at her wrist. "I'm starting to realize this whole thing was a mistake," he hissed, flinging her arm back to her. "You're more of a nuisance than help, really. Perhaps you should find your way back to Milan. I'm sure someone will appreciate a _nude_ spread.~"

He should've expected she would strike out yet he hadn't realized she had slapped him until his neck had flicked the other way. His cheek stung and was surely marked with a deep, red handprint when gingerly touched the started to laugh and the whole cab trembled with the incredible sound. His stomach began to hurt just as much as his cheek as he wound an arm about it and began to kick the back of the driver's seat. The cab jolted into a screeching halt, the action seeming to quell Izaya's hysteria as the driver ordered them out. Izaya shook his head at Hinamei, at the nerve of the daft woman though she met his gaze head-on. "I'm going to _kill_ you someday, Hina-chan. You know that, don't you?" He expected her to see that he was telling the truth.

Hinamei shook out her hand, the one she had used to smack him as she waited for Izaya to climb out of the car. She leveled her gaze and gave an infuriating coy smile. "Of course, Iza-kun. _But not today._"


	9. The Prodigy

_Past_

A mind was an awfully horrid thing to waste. Mori Kine had learned this quite early on. There were countless instances in which he had witnessed people standing by as their minds rotted away. To someone like him, it came as such a crying shame.

Most would say money was the root of all power, that is, if power was synonymous with evil. Those who thought like that probably never had any money and who was to say they were so innocent by default? Anyhow, Kine liked to think he was a bit different. To him, the key to power was undoubtedly intelligence. It was a gift foolish men often took for granted. Kine was truly an exception. For years, he had toiled over perfecting his mind, creating an incredible and lethal force. He understood the inner workings of the human psyche, perhaps even beyond what science professed. Kine became what one would call a genius. He had indisputably the most glorious mind. But even the most beautiful beings proved corruptible. Enter the Awakusu-Kai.

Kine had never intended to dedicate his life to the yakuza. He had a promising future, a beautiful wife, and nothing but potential as far as the eye could see. What more could he possibly ask for? At one time, he couldn't name a thing. Yet somehow, the Awakusu drove a bargain he simply couldn't resist, the promise of adventure, a yearning he would unfortunately pass on to his daughter.

Kine had existed with a humble life but he was ready to truly live. There was no better way to appreciate life than being constantly thrown in the face of death. It was twisted, he knew well, but thrilling all the same. And for the first time in his life, Kine had understood what it was like to feel inexplicably complete. It was how he had become the Awakusu's most coveted asset, Mori Kine. Genius, informant, and Ikebukuro's most dangerous man.

Mori Hinamei had been the one to change his life (or so Kine had hoped). A spitting image of her mother but a daddy's girl at heart, he would learn she took up much more from him. He had thought he had seen it once, this glimmer in her eyes, a peek into her young mind. But Hinamei had always been a quiet girl, respectful and to herself. Little had Kine known that all the while, she had been silently analyzing the world around her. Kine and Hana had agreed they would keep the Awakusu away until they found the right time. Their hope was that Hinamei would grow up as normal as any other child, fortunate but otherwise the same. But she too proved to wield an incredible mind and had finally decided to use it.

"Father," she had said at dinner one night. He glanced at the mirror in her eyes. "There's something I need to ask of you and I hope you tell me the truth." He flashed a smile to his wife and squeezed her hand endearingly before nodding to his daughter. Though she looked him in the eye, it was as if she was seeing straight through him. It startled Kine but he didn't seem to understand why. "Your business associates are scary and sometimes you leave late at night. Every time momma looks at you, it's as if it'll be the last time."

Kine's smile faltered and his wife shared his worry. "Hinamei...is there something wrong? What is it that you want to know?"

She shook her head, her sight still trained on him before she went on. "I never meant to eavesdrop, but I've heard it whispered sometimes by you and some of your friends. Father, I just need to know. Are you a part of the Awakusu-Kai?"

Hana threw her hand to her mouth to muffle her surprise while Kine remained calm. He nodded to his wife, silently asking her to play along and she forced a small, wary smile. He turned to Hinamei with what he hoped was a comforting yet bewildered look. "No, honey. You're mistaken. I'm just a stock broker."

"I see," she said quietly, picking at her food with no appetite. She said nothing else in return. Kine let out a breath he hadn't released he had been holding as he too resumed his meal. The sound of silverware clanking against the expensive china only served as a minimal distraction to the tension that had filled the room. It was the first time he had outright lied to his daughter and he hoped that it would be the last. Just as he was prepared to leave the incident behind, out came Hinamei's voice, small but sure. "Papa," she whispered, eyeing him slowly. "Just now...why did you lie?"

From that moment forth, Kine refused to withhold anything else from his daughter. He swore to answer her every inquiry to the best of his ability and with this, he went forth to mold yet another beautiful mind. He guided his daughter in the extension of her analytical skills, improving the ability to a realm of superiority. It was incredible, truly, how easily she recognized the telltale signs of deceit. It was an infliction of one's tone, the flicker of one's eyes, that led Hinamei into becoming a human lie detector. And like her father before, Hinamei had proven to be quite a formidable asset.

Kine was reluctant to allow his daughter to become involved in Awakusu matters. While her talent could be useful, neither he nor Hana were prepared to expose Hinamei to the seedy underground world. The Awakusu assured Kine that in their ranks, Hinamei would be safe. Ultimately, it was Hinamei who made his opinion sway.

"Haven't you always said 'a mind was an awfully horrid thing to waste?'" How could he deny what he had always believed? Hinamei, whether Kine was willing to admit it or not, was ready to show what she could do.

They had become a team, father and daughter. He would get the leads and she would weed out the rats. At times, he worried if he was only putting her in more danger but there was a fire alight in Hinamei and it seemed to be growing. Kine had thought it was intelligence he sensed, her ever-evolving power. It was what he wanted to see and in some ways, it had become his truth. But Hinamei, like himself so many years before, yearned for something more. With their business, she had grown a longing for raw, unadulterated adventure. It was much too late when Kine had realized the folly in what he had done.

He had slowly pulled Hinamei back from the Awakusu, felt her resistance quite early on, but he only wanted what he thought best for his daughter. No parent could willingly endanger their child like he had and no matter how valuable Hinamei's talent could be, nothing compared to the preservation of her life and what's more, a life of innocence. She on the other hand vehemently disagreed. And so began her reign of terror.

She acted out in school, picking fights with any student who so much as looked at her the wrong way. She weaseled her way under their skins, poking where it hurt most until they eventually lashed out. She always came out the victor, unscathed and shortly unamused. She had undoubtedly done this all in the pursuit of thrills; she ached for an opponent. Yet every unlikely adversary fell short of the wicked men whose words she had dared to challenge. Kine had created a monster that took residence in his daughter and for once, his brilliant mind didn't know what to do.

He considered reincorporating her into some of his lesser affairs though he knew even then, she wouldn't be content. Hinamei had tasted the forbidden fruit and now she only craved for what he withheld from her. She needed the mental stimulation like an addict itching for the high. How could Kine deny his own daughter when at one time, they were the same? He decided to reinstate her as his sidekick and partner though his verdict couldn't have come at the most inopportune time.

Hana had fallen incredibly sick and Hinamei's desires were no longer Kine's primary concern. He dedicated his time in finding a cure for his wife all the while, abandoning his work. This didn't go unnoticed by the Awakusu and he knew they would only tolerate so much. He needed a replacement, temporary if need be, and he needed one fast. He searched high and low for a mind that rivaled his own and unsurprisingly turned up empty handed. He wondered if he would ever find someone fitting and grew anxious as time went by. Never once did Kine expect to stumble upon his prodigy following a parent-teacher meeting.

Hinamei had acted out again, supposedly tormenting an upperclassman. Even after the conference, Kine wasn't exactly sure what the whole argument had been about. Hinamei had insisted the teacher's aide had messed with her grades to benefit another student and in the name of justice (however twisted), Hinamei had pinned the girl to the ground and taken a hold of her braid, cutting it clear from her head. A consequence of her actions, Hinamei had asserted, and the hair would grow back anyway. The teacher wasn't nearly amused but was too intimidated to take further action. He left the matter in Kine's hands. But with all things considered, Kine found there were more pressing matters than a girl receiving an unexpected haircut.

It was when they were leaving the school when they crossed paths with the one Kine had been looking for. The boy was a delinquent, of that Kine had no doubt, but there was also a fire waiting to be lit inside. He had seen it then, in the very moment Hinamei had disarmed him. He was clearly impressed and had a touch of arrogance as if he knew Hinamei wouldn't hurt him. Even from where Kine had stood, he had caught the boy analyzing her, calculating her every possible move and had found no perceivable threat. And so he had smirked, slowly from ear to ear as Kine admonished him and Heiwajima.

"Have you boys no shame? No decency to refrain from fighting on campus much less in front of a lady?" He released his hold on Heiwajima and looked pointedly at Izaya.

"With no disrespect, sir," Izaya drawled as Kine watched him from over his shoulder. "But the lady hardly looks offended. If you asked me, I'd think she found the fight_ enticing.~"_

There was something unsettling about the way Hinamei had looked when Kine glanced at her. A small smile had spread across her lips and she had the most peculiar twinkle in her eye when Izaya had spoken. She had seen it then, Kine knew, though maybe she hadn't realized it just yet. But in some way and in that moment, her mind had recognized Orihara Izaya's. It had noticed, but perhaps did not understand, that they were of the same kind, beautiful, brilliant, and incredibly powerful. All his mind needed was to be refined.

That day, Kine had seen himself reflected in Izaya too, and Izaya had quickly sought him out. There was an inexplicable attraction of their like minds and Izaya was just as eager to learn as Kine was to teach the boy everything he knew. He showed him the ropes, how to take up his position as he went on temporary leave.

Izaya showed promise, proved intelligent beyond measure, but even the most beautiful beings proved corruptible. And for the second time in his life, Kine had managed to create yet another monster.

* * *

Izaya clicked at the end of his pen absentmindedly as he scoured over his notes once more. He managed to collect some information on Kine but everything seemed to lead to dead-ends. Whoever had assisted his sensei in his disappearance deserved the most prestigious award. The man had disappeared without a trace and Izaya was convinced the assignment would be fruitless, with or without Hinamei's help.

He had yet to inform the model of what exactly they were doing. Little by little, he exposed her to clients that supposedly had evidence on her father's whereabouts. Whether or not one could consider it luck, none of the leads had proven useful. At the very least, Hinamei was still in the dark and had thus far been compliant. Though he needed a break, something to go on, he knew it was best Hinamei know as little as possible lest she put the pieces together and withhold any information she herself may have. All in due time, Izaya told himself. When she trusted him again, when he had her right where he wanted her (and he would, soon enough), she would sing like a canary and expose Kine's location. All in due time.

It was as if the very thought of the model had managed to summon her. Izaya sighed as her name lit up across his cellphone's screen. He wasn't looking for the headache that would inevitably ensue should he answer her call. He ignored it at once and the incessant buzzing ceased. It probably wasn't anything important (as were most things concerning Hinamei); if it had been, she would've called until he finally answered. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction considering it was his day off (from working with her, that is). If she wanted to reach him, she'd have to wait until the morning when they were scheduled for an assignment.

With that, he shoved his phone into his pocket and shrugged into his coat. He would enjoy the last few hours before he'd meet with Hinamei doing what he loved most. He hopped on the Fukutoshin Line, sight set on Ikebukuro. He would savor the moments spent studying his humans, each and every unsuspecting one. The moment he stepped foot in the city, he took a deep breath as though to swallow all of humanity whole. He grinned, eager to see what the night would unfold all the while, oblivious to the woman twitching on her penthouse floor, fending off unconsciousness.

Hinamei would have to wait until the morning, that is, if she lasts.


	10. The Model

The music pounding from the speakers rattled the gaudy necklace strung around Hinamei's neck. She held her hand over the trembling thing to hear the instructions from the stage hands over the noise. The show was running smoothly and the finale was coming sooner than they had expected. The crew was doing their final rounds to ensure everything was as in place when someone tapped her shoulder. Asato Kishi, one of the younger girls, had her face scrunched up in worry. She had never before spoken to Hinamei and she couldn't imagine why the girl had decided to now. Probably the jitters, Hinamei mused. Kishi's photographs were much stronger than her walk.

"Miss Mori," her junior said rather timidly. Her attention was drawn to the bracelet on her wrist as she twisted it around nervously. "There's something I need to speak to you about. It's important."

A makeup artist wedged between the two, sweeping a fresh layer of bronzer across Hinamei's cheeks. She spoke from over the man's shoulder. "You can see how this isn't the best time?"

Kishi nodded when the man turned to her, fluffing up the girl's false lashes. "I know but it's urgent." A stage hand grabbed at Kishi's arm and walked her towards the runway. "Find me after the show, please!" She was flung behind the black curtains and sent to walk. The other models were escorted in a similar fashion, signaled when it was their turn.

Anya appeared at Hinamei's side then, swishing the remnants of a gin martini round a glass. "Asato pushing for advice? How odd, don't you think?" She threw back the last sip before handing the emptied glass for a crewmember to take away. She scrunched up her mussed hair and adjusted her blouse before turning to Hinamei. "Well, what exactly did she say?"

"Didn't have a chance to say much of anything. She asked if I would meet with her after the show."

"How flattering," Anya said dryly, scrutinizing her manicure. "Don't tell me you're going to humor the girl?"

"Wouldn't hurt to give her some pointers. She's beginning to make us look bad," Hinamei said. "Maybe you should speak to her too."

"Maybe I will," Anya muttered before she too vanished behind the black velvet. A few models later, it was Hinamei's turn and she took the stage by storm. Her walk claimed the whole theatre's attention and her smolder could set the whole venue ablaze. She felt powerful, invincible, and completely in control when she struck her poses at the end of the stretch. She scoured the audience with her narrowed eyes and they rose to their feet, roaring in delight. At last, she gave a seductive flash of her white teeth before grabbing her colleagues' hands and taking a low bow. They made way for the designer, clapping as the young man waved to his adoring fans and potential buyers. The commotion continued well after the models had stepped offstage.

Hinamei ran her hands through her hair and tore off the atrocious attire. She had found the whole ensemble rather tasteless and was eager to slip into her own Dolce cocktail dress. Just as she was zipping up the low back, she caught sight of Kishi's reflection in the vanity before her. The girl hesitated but Hinamei waved her forward as she stuck her diamond earrings into place.

"You have a lot to work on and I'm not sure we can get through it tonight. How about we set aside a time when we're both free?"

Kishi seemed confused and shook her head. "This isn't about modeling, Miss Mori. There's something you need to know."

Hinamei sighed, twirling around in her seat. "Make it quick, Asato-san. There's champagne waiting for me."

Kishi spun the dial on the face of her watch. It seemed to be a nervous habit of hers, Hinamei realized. How odd. When Kishi noticed the action had been caught, she stepped forward and flashed Hinamei a view. "A gift from my boyfriend," she confessed. "It has a canary diamond to mark the twelve."

"Charming but I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss a watch?"

"N-no," Kishi agreed as she shifted in her heels. "That's not it. Would you…happen to remember speaking to Nakahara Reiji?" The name didn't particularly stick and Hinamei shrugged. "He's actually a fan of yours. You two met a few weeks back with Orihara Izaya."

Hinamei racked her mind before she gave a little, "oh. Yes, he was asking something about his gang's leader?"

Kishi nodded her head enthusiastically. "That's right, that's him. He's actually my boyfriend."

Hinamei frowned as she got on her feet. She didn't really care who the girl got involved with but she didn't like the direction the conversation was going. "Look, Asato-san. You seem like a good person but I'm afraid if you've come to me for information, you will be sorely disappointed. Come to me whenever you want to work on that walk." She made her way to leave when Kishi skirted in front of her, brown eyes wide and dotted with tears.

"Please, don't go," she croaked desperately. "I have no one else to turn to. If he finds out I came to you, I'm as good as dead."

Hinamei scrutinized the girl's pale face and found she was telling no lie. "If your life is in danger, why come to me? It's not my job to protect you."

"Reiji-san can only do so much. He hoped if he found the Yellow Scarves' leader, we would be protected. But if Orihara-san withholds this information…" Kishi sobbed into her hands.

"I'm not sure what mess you've gotten yourself into but there's nothing I can do to help. Iza-kun isn't easily persuaded, especially by me. The only way you can get a hold of the man's location is by giving him something of value in return."

Kishi tore off her watch and offered it to Hinamei. "Won't this be enough?" she cried.

Hinamei sighed in mild frustration as she coaxed the band back upon the girl's wrist. "It isn't exactly the form he prefers and your boyfriend didn't really have much else to offer."

"He warned you," Kishi said. "But I can do him one better. The attack is scheduled for tonight."

Hinamei considered this before sighing again. "Like Reiji-san, your intel is too broad. If I tell Izaya what you just said to me, I don't think he'd find this information very useful."

"There's more," Kishi said desperately. "But I have to know you'll help me. Please, Miss Mori. I'm not ready to die and I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

Hinamei opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the boisterous laughter of her fellow drunken models. "Hinamei," Anya called from the forefront, an extra glass in her hand. "We've been looking all over for you. See, girls? I knew she was back here, probably popping pills."

Hinamei glared at her Ukrainian roommate though she accepted the proffered drink. "One day, someone's going to find sport in snipping off that tongue, Anya."

"Until then, I'd rather put it to better use out there," she said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the party. The women all giggled their agreement as Anya tugged at Hinamei's arm. "Come on, this is boring. Let's have some fun. You can deal with Asato later."

At the mention of her name, Kishi's eyes went wide and she turned to Hinamei imploringly. "Go home, Asato-san. I'll call you in the morning. We'll talk more then. Oh," she reached into her clutch and proceeded to send a message. "I'll have my driver take you home. The car will be waiting outside."

"Let's go," Anya whined with an indignant tug on Hinamei's arm. At last, Hinamei relented and allowed herself to be pulled off to the promise of debauchery with Kishi far from her mind.

The after parties were meant to celebrate the evening's designer but to the models, it was a toast to their own success. In truth, many of them had very little going for them with exception that they were tall and extraordinarily beautiful. There were a handful like Hinamei, well-off and intelligent but eager to accept the opportunity. Together, they all traveled across the globe and fashioned chaos in each city they visited. They were wild and they were enablers, encouraging each other's worst habits often to the point of near death. It was how Hinamei found herself stumbling home in the dead of night.

She laughed at her own drunkenness as she strolled through the empty city streets. It had been some time since she had let herself go, the last probably at a club in Milan. It was Ikebukuro, she supposed, that made her feel such a way, that made her crave for a different state of mind. As Anya pointed out the day after they arrived, Hinamei had long kicked her habit of swallowing pills. And yet, that morning she realized how hollow she truly felt. At once, Izaya filled that space with the threat of his presence and the moment he was gone, she was left rather empty. So she turned to the prescriptions to fill the void and even then, she wasn't completely satisfied. She frowned at this realization and thirsted for another drink. One more to send her into unconsciousness, one more to clear her mind.

She stumbled into her building only to discover the bar had long been closed. She was tempted to climb right over the counter and pour herself a glass. Yet she was rather fond of her apartment and didn't really want to be evicted over a martini. She would settle for the bottle of red waiting upstairs, she decided, as she took the elevator to her floor. She fumbled with her keys when she heard a muffled sound coming from within her penthouse. As she pressed her ear to the door, she realized it was classical music blaring through the system. She scrunched her nose in disdain, hoping Anya hadn't volunteered to host another party at her place. When she opened the door, she was flooded with relief that the flat was empty.

She threw her keys on the counter and uncorked the bottle before pouring herself a glass. She headed for the balcony where the music swelled in from, assuming Anya would be there. As she peered outside, she was puzzled to find that no one was around. Perhaps the Ukrainian had come and gone and simply had forgotten to shut off the speakers. Closing the French doors behind her, Hinamei headed over to the system's dials, intent on turning the awful music off. Just as her fingers ghosted over the buttons, a sharp object had been pressed to the skin of her exposed back. Hinamei froze instantly, recognizing the prongs of a stun gun and knowing she couldn't disarm whoever had her trapped.

"How rude," she said slowly, "to attack a woman in her own home. Will you at least have the decency to let me finish my drink?" The person didn't respond, only breathed heavily from where they stood behind her. She could sense their twisted smile though she remained unperturbed, lifting the glass towards her lips. She gasped as a violent shock shuddered throughout her body. Her glass clattered to the floor and she along with it, convulsing until the sensation had gone away leaving her painfully tingly. "You should know my roommate will be home soon," she groaned. "You've made a terrible mistake."

"Stay here and don't move, Miss Mori. I need to go fetch the rope." The voice had Hinamei convinced she had been attacked by a male but one that didn't seem to have any prowess (seeing as he had resorted to using a taser). As his footsteps faded away, Hinamei's hand twitched as it reached into her clutch. She flipped her phone open from within and pressed the five button and call. Izaya surely considered Hinamei valuable otherwise he wouldn't have sought her out. This is what Hinamei clung to as she hoped he answered her call.

She pulled her hand away from her bag as the man returned. He stood towering over her before kneeling by her face. "What's this?" he muttered as he reached for her bag and shook out its contents. Her phone, flipped open, landed by his feet and he collected it at once. "It's dialing," he noted before snapping it shut. "You shouldn't have done that, Miss Mori," he sighed.

Hinamei squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip as the stun gun's prongs were upon her. She thrashed about, her vision spotted, as the jolt coursed through her. She laid panting on the floor, desperately clinging onto consciousness in vain. She felt the man's hot breath against the nape of her neck as he tied her hands behind her back. As she begun to fall victim to the looming darkness, Hinamei wondered how furious Izaya would be knowing she had died at the hands of someone other than himself. She could feel her lips twitch with the semblance of a smile before everything had finally gone black.


	11. The Art Show

_Past_

Hinamei took out her frustration on her hair as she threw it up into a rough bun. With only hours left before the exhibit reveal, she was hit with the painful realization that there was still so much left to be done. She undid the top button of her blouse but even then felt suffocated by responsibility. It wasn't the obligation to the student government that had her so bothered more so than the one to the Awakusu.

She shouldn't have been so surprised when she learned artists like Junichi Kakizaki and Michio Ihara would be featured in the school's gallery. Raijin, after all, was a prestigious academy despite its peculiar student body but even so, the school had never before received such generous donations from artists of their magnitudes. Her father would never admit his influence but his insistence on attending the exhibit that night was admission enough.

A classmate cowered away under the intensity of Hinamei's scowl. With so many things out of order, no one was safe from her wrath. If they had been wary of her before, they had never known fear until Bunka no Hi. Even the student body president submitted to her, agreeing with every assertion the girl made. Everything seemed to be falling in place and yet, Hinamei still felt as though it was all out of hand. She almost pitied her next victim, certain they'd be carted out to the morgue.

She massaged her temple and rested her hand on her hip, going through countless scenarios of what could wrong. What if some student hung a canvas the wrong way? The artist would surely be insulted. She sucked in a hiss, imagining the embarrassment that would surely bring to the Mori name and by extension, the Awakusu. She couldn't allow one thing to go wrong. She would castrate someone before she let the night fail.

She was pulled from her reverie by a thud to her head. Her lashes fluttered open and she could feel her nostrils flare before she realized who dared to bump her. Her anger came out in a little huff as she glowered up at Heiwajima Shizuo. The blonde returned the look with an unimpressed expression before offering up a little bottle.

"What's this?" Hinamei muttered, accepting the glass.

"Milk," he said simply, popping the cap off of his own.

Hinamei arched a brow, cocking her hip to the side. "That's not what I meant. Why did you bring me a glass of milk?"

Shizuo stared at her before he shrugged. "It calms me down when I'm stressed."

Hinamei bubbled out her lips. "I'm _not_ stressed."

"Drink it or don't drink it. Makes no difference to me."

Hinamei eyed Shizuo's gift before she too popped off the top. She took a sip before turning to the gallery, mentally noting what else needed to be done. "The banner," she muttered. Shizuo waited for her elaboration. "I told the boys from 2B to hang up the banner before they left."

"No ladder," Shizuo clarified as he screwed on the top to his empty drink.

"That's no excuse," Hinamei bit, quite nearly breaking the glass in her hold. She imagined it as one of the boy's necks and even then, she found no relief.

Shizuo eyed the spot where the banner was supposed to go before he got down on one knee. Hinamei stepped away from him in confusion before he motioned to his back.

"Get on," he ordered. "You'll be able to reach then."

Hinamei considered the offer, initially shaking her head incredulously. But the look on Shizuo's face was insistent and he made no motion to stand (though he did somehow appear to be losing his patience by the way he had begun to scowl). Ultimately, Hinamei collected the banner and found herself hoisted up onto his shoulders. His arms secured her around her calves as he stepped closer to the entryway where the banner was meant to be hung.

Hinamei stretched the banner out, urging her fingers to reach up higher to no avail. She growled out a little curse in frustration when she realized they still came short. "Higher," she ordered and though the blonde scoffed, he obliged, standing on the tips of his toes. Again, Hinamei strained to pin the banner to the wall and was yet again unsuccessful. She rolled up the thing and handed it down to Shizuo. He gave her a quizzical look. "Don't move," she insisted as she snaked her legs from his grasp and slowly eased her feet on top of his shoulders. Shizuo's body went rigid when he understood her intentions. Before he could object, Hinamei cut him off. "Look up my skirt, Shizu-chan, and I'll snap your neck. Let that be the only thing you worry about."

A large, rough hand supported her ankle as Hinamei rose cautiously to her full height. When she was certain she wouldn't fall, she held her hand out expectantly and the blonde passed up the banner. She was balanced precariously on his shoulders, her heartbeat racing just as quickly as Shizuo's own pulse thrumming from his hand through her calve. She set her face into determination, ignoring the fact that if she fell, she'd likely break her back and forever remain paralyzed. It was _thrilling,_ not frightening, she convinced herself. She pinned the banner on the wall with a satisfied smirk.

"There," she breathed. "Now get me down." Shizuo's hold around her ankles tightened. "Hold up your arms," she instructed, "and ease me down."

From her perch, she could still make out the permanent scowl upon the blonde's face. She chuckled as he reluctantly did as he was told and she placed her smaller hands in his much larger ones. She held on tightly as she stepped over to one side, slowly lowering herself to sit upon his shoulder. The moment she was presumably safe, Shizuo reached around and grabbed her from the waist and set her down in front of him.

Hinamei straightened out her skirt and blouse before stepping back to scrutinize her work. She grinned in approval before offering Shizuo a high-five. "We make a good team, Heiwajima!"

"You're the most troublesome person I've ever met."

"You've confused 'troublesome' for 'interesting.'"

Shizuo eyed her with almost disdain. "Is there anything else that needs to be done?"

Hinamei shook her head. "I think I've got everything else covered. You're excused, Shizu-chan!" He dug his hands in his pockets perhaps to keep from lashing out at her. She stepped in front of him and reached up to brush the shoulders of his blazer. "There," she said. "Don't say I never help _you_."

He placed a heavy hand on her head and easily moved her out of his way, muttering, "troublesome" as he disappeared down the hall. Hinamei smiled to herself before turning back to the gallery for the last finishing touches. At this point, most of the students had gone home to change and the exhibit had been left to just the sound of her shoes on the tiles. They clicked along as she slowly made her way through the maze of masterpieces, thoroughly impressed by the extravagant works. She must have been entranced, succumbed to the power of the beautiful pieces, to have not noticed when someone had appeared. She hadn't felt their eyes following her as she swept by each display with awe alighting her face.

Still, she didn't flinch at the sound of a second pair of footsteps. Instead, she cast a glower over her shoulder. "It's rude to stare," she chastised uselessly. "Or did you mistake me for a masterpiece?"

Izaya's leered widened as he approached her, maintaining a comfortable enough distance from Hinamei. "Don't look now, Hina-chan, but I think your conceit is showing.~"

She rolled her eyes back to the sculpture she had been analyzing. "And you, your audacity," she bit. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't I simply admire your work?"

"With you, things are never quite simple, Orihara."

"So callous.~"

"And quite done." She spun around to him and glared, folding her arms across her chest. "Can't you take a hint? I'm not interested in you."

"You certainly made _that_ apparent when you hired Shizuo as your hitman."

"Perhaps I should consider a more permanent solution?"

Izaya smirked. "Oh, you would never," he said most assuredly. "It would be the biggest mistake of your life."

Hinamei snorted, brushing past the delinquent. "That's quite an assertion even for you, Orihara."

"One that I can justify."

"Unlikely."

Izaya spun in front of Hinamei then, seemingly catching her off guard with his disregard for proximity. "Challenge accepted!" He licked his lips. "If I, Orihara Izaya, cannot prove how much more interesting your life is with me around, then I forfeit all pursuits of Mori Hinamei."

Hinamei narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "And if you win?"

His face lit up with mischief. "Already doubting yourself?"

"I want to know what it is you hope to gain."

He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and leaned in closely to the shell of her ear. "Isn't it obvious?" he said, his breath sending tingles down the side of her neck. "Your_interest_ is what I hope to gain."

Hinamei pinched his cheek harshly, pulling him away to put some distance between the two. "You're annoying, Orihara." She let go of his cheek.

"And you're transparent, Hina-chan. I'll make you see what I see.~"

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

He strolled past her, ignoring the sting of his red cheek. "You'll understand this evening," he said with a wink. "I look forward to proving you wrong. Do wear something nice, hmm?~"

She scoffed. "Unbelievable." She finished up the last touches and even long after he was gone, her heart hammered wildly.

Evening settled in quickly, sending Hinamei in quite a panic. Her fingers fumbled over her twinkling earrings as she hastily stuck them in. Her mother waited in her door frame, sheathed in a sleek peplum dress and pointed stilettos. Her husband soon enough joined her in the doorway, a hand poised upon her waist. "The car is waiting," he said.

"Just a minute," Hinamei called back. She ran a dark red color upon her lips, rubbed them together, and pouted. "Done." She snatched a crossbody clutch before chasing after her parents.

Their driver waited patiently for them in front of the car but something horrid began to grow inside Hinamei when she found he was not alone. Her pout fell into a nasty glower and she quite nearly ruined her bag in her tight grip.

"Orihara Izaya," she growled out much like Shizuo often would.

The delinquent gave a sideways smirk, clearly amused by the girl's rage. "Mori Hinamei-"

The hand wielding the clutch swung around to strike the boy across the face. He easily evaded, catching her wrist before she lashed at him again. He sneered right in her face and Hinamei swore if narcissism had a scent, it was whatever rolled off in waves of heat from Orihara Izaya.

He placed a ginger kiss upon the knuckles of her fist, delight twinkling in his eyes. If possible, Hinamei's face screwed up even more so but this time, she contained her rage.

"It seems you two remember each other," Mori Kine said with a hint of disapproval.

Hinamei snatched her wrist from Izaya's hold. "He makes it hard to forget," she snapped. "Just what are you doing here, Orihara? This isn't the time nor place for your games."

"Actually, your father invited me, Hina-chan," he explained rather boldly. "I meant to tell you earlier but you hardly gave me a chance to speak."

Hinamei's face felt as if it were on fire and she spun around to her father. "Tell me he is lying," she grounded out the plea. The tight line of Kine's lips confirmed her worse fears. "Papa!"

Hana held her hands up gently in peace and at once, Hinamei's anger subsided. "That's not way to treat a guest, Hinamei. Come now, I'm sure we'll all enjoy Orihara-san's company."

Hinamei rolled her eyes in defiance but said nothing more. Their driver, seeming to have found the moment to have passed, propped the door open for the quartet and waited for them to clamber in. Izaya flashed Hinamei a triumphant smirk as she climbed in, setting his hand on the small of her back. She took his hand and flung it back at him, shooting him a warning with her narrowed eyes. He accepted the challenge and followed her in, determined to win her parents over.

Their conversation was innocent enough and yet managed to make Hinamei sick with the way Izaya manipulated her parents so easily. Every so often, his sight flickered to her brooding form and his sneer would widen slightly. She would scowl back before turning to her father, hoping he too could see through Izaya's guise. If he did, he showed no regards and maintained respect for the delinquent.

It wasn't long before they arrived at Raijin Academy. Hinamei's parents were the first to step out and at her turn, she lingered at the door. "I don't know what you're up to but keep my parents out of it," she hissed.

Izaya was unperturbed. "Forget about our little wager already, Hina-chan?"

She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him. "Don't you dare use my parents as pawns, Orihara." She stepped out and he followed.

He took her chin between his thumb and finger and she was shocked by his boldness but did well to contain her surprise. He leaned in close to the side of her face, his lips ghosting across the flesh there. "All's fair," he whispered simply and her body shivered with the desire to strike out at him. He pulled away, satisfied with himself.

His hand fell from her face to the small of her back as he made to lead her in. Again, Hinamei slapped him away and sauntered past him up the steps and into the school. His chuckles followed after her. She duck between patrons with the intent of shaking off the flea. In her waltz, she snagged a champagne flute and threw back the bubbles in one quick gulp. Even that could not quell the fire that Izaya had lit within her. After a few more, she reasoned, and she would be light as a feather. That is, not if a certain delinquent had anything to say about it.

Izaya easily took the empty flute from Hinamei's hand and stepped between her and the server offering another. The intensity of her glower was placated when Izaya handed her a fresh glass and one for himself. He clinked his flute to hers in mock celebration as he hovered over her shoulder. "Pace yourself," he teased. "You're in for a long night.~"

* * *

Izaya huffed through his nose as he snapped close his phone. He squeezed his eyes shut to mask his annoyance. He should've known not to rely on such a fickle girl. Thankfully, he could do his job perfectly fine with or without her. In any case, Hinamei's absence frustrated the informant to no end. For the umpteenth time since he sought her out, he considered getting rid of her once and for all. Today, he practiced patience.

He slid his phone into his pocket as he took to the streets. He hadn't received word from the girl all day. Maybe she was hungover, the irresponsible wretch. Or perhaps, she meant to infuriate him. He was more partial to the latter.

He considered taking the next train ride home lest he meet Hinamei's expectations; he suspected she was at her apartment then, laughing to herself in a fortress of Egyptian cotton. He could see it now, the smug look on her face when he crossed the threshold into her lair. His hands curled into fists just at the very thought. But today, he practiced patience.

He reasoned it was only because he was in the city. He'd only have her speak to him on his terms rather than on her own. He drew out his cellphone then, recalling her blocked call from last night. Only on his terms, he asserted. No others.

The sun began to sink behind the buildings by the time Izaya strolled through the high-rise lobby. The check-in clerk nodded in the informant's direction as if part of some old routine. Izaya smirked to himself as he took the lift up and as before, let himself into the model's apartment unannounced. He meant to chime out condescendingly to the girl but his words caught in his throat. He stood in the open doorway, face screwed in confusion before he threw the door close and folded his arms across his chest. His confusion contorted to amusement as he took in the sight before him.

"Well, well, well...what do we have here?~"


	12. The Gamble

Hinamei scowled at where Izaya stood in her doorway. Her appearance was a bit mussed and there seemed to be a bruise forming upon her cheekbone but aside her evident agitation, she was rather unharmed. Though a heavy weight had lifted from somewhere inside Izaya, a bit of disappointment burrowed in that space.

"Get the broom and dustpan, would you? I've made a bit of a mess."

"I'll say," Izaya chuckled, doing as he was instructed. "Tell me, Hina-chan—" He offered her the broom with a toothy leer. "Just what did this man do to incur your wrath? Break a set of your cherished flutes?~"

Hinamei snatched the broom from his hold and swept along the legs of the chair in which a man was bound and gagged. His buggy eyes flicked between the model and the informant as he twitched and sweated profusely. Hinamei placed her foot on the seat and roughly tilted it back onto its hind legs earning a muffled yelp from her hostage but she ignored him as she swept up the glass shattered about his feet.

"Even worse," she said to Izaya. "A vase."

"That's no way to treat the help."

She shot a dirty look towards the man who cowered under her glare. "He's not the help. He's a dirty little cheat," she hissed as she sauntered to the drop the glass shards in the waste bin.

Izaya plopped unto the couch opposite of Hinamei's hostage and made himself comfortable. "Paparazzi?" he offered.

"Might as well be—a stalker."

Izaya barked a laugh. "So this is why you've been missing our jobs; you've been playing cat with a cornered little mouse."

"Rat," she corrected venomously. She tugged on Izaya's ear roughly. "Don't be so nonchalant about the incident, Iza-kun. His intended target was you."

Izaya cocked a brow in amusement. "You don't say?"

"The idiot thought you lived here, seen you come in and out enough to make the assumption."

"And when he found I wasn't here…"

"He thought he'd settle for the next best thing."

Izaya rubbed his lip in thought though he did nothing to erase the pleasant sneer. "Any idea on what he sought to gain?"

"I didn't manage to get to that between being tasered and subduing him."

Alas, Izaya's grin faltered and his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "You were overpowered by scum like him?" Izaya spat with the heavy accusation.

"Like I said, a dirty little cheat. He snuck up on me in my own house."

"My, my," Izaya sighed with a shake of his head. "I suppose we're going to have to teach him some manners, hmm?" The hostage squirmed desperately in his binds. "What do you think, Hina-chan? A finger for each violation? A bit of acid to make him go blind?"

"Don't be so cruel. He may be useful to us, more so if he doesn't soil his pants," she chided.

"How lucky for you, hostage-san! Hinamei is feeling generous today!~"

"I wouldn't go so far," Hinamei warned. "With my face like this, I'll have to cancel my appointments." She turned on her hostage and folded her arms haughtily across her chest. "Let's hope he has something of value to offer."

And she tore off the duct tape from over his mouth in one, swift tug.

* * *

_Past_

The quiver she found snaking down her spine could no longer be from his insolent touch but rather the cold drops of water teasing down her open back; for that he was still to blame, placing his hand between her shoulders in a seemingly endearing way to disguise his true intent. He would switch his champagne glass to his free hand and place the other on her skin so the cold sweat from the flute would slither down her flesh. He thought he was clever clearly, evident by the hint of a condescending sneer. She was bent on wiping the smug look from his face and swore she would see to it by the night's end.

He chuckled under his breath at her little scowl. She shot him a dark, accusatory look as though to dare him to speak his mind. He needn't any encouragement; she knew very well he would do as he pleased and he did, leaning over to murmur into her ear, _"is something wrong, Hina-chan?~"_

Her hand curled around the stem of her glass, threatening to snap it in two. The act didn't escape the delinquent's notice and served to widen his maddening smirk. She managed to rein in her fury lest she allow it to overwhelm her and ruin the night. They still had hours to go to see to the exhibit's success.

"Hinamei?" Her expression lifted at her father's call of her name. "There's someone I would like you to meet; he's your benefactor."

Hinamei was relieved to have a legitimate excuse to abandon Izaya. As she made to flash him a smug look, he offered his infamous smirk. "I'd suggest you hold your breath, Hina-chan." She arched a brow at him in challenge but he said nothing more and went on his way.

Kine ushered Hinamei towards a man of obvious importance. His pressed suit was of some expensive foreign label and matched his prestigious appearance. If she had to guess, she'd assume he was from some Slavic region, most definitely European. He smiled at her in a peculiar way, like a wolf dazzled by its elegant prey. But Hinamei was no fragile sheep so she flashed him a seemingly coy smile and batted her eyelashes to hide her calculations.

"Leonid," Kine greeted the man with the amiability of longtime friends. The man clapped him on the shoulder and drew him into a firm hug.

"Ah, Kine! I was beginning to worry you wouldn't show." His heavy accent confirmed Hinamei's earlier suspicions. "What a waste that would be to miss such a fine exhibition?" His sight flickered to Hinamei at this and she flushed expectantly. "You must be the daughter Kine goes on about. Hinamei, yes?"

She gave a respectful bow with her, "yes."

Leonid openly admired her. "She's as exquisite as her taste, my friend."

"She takes after her mother," Kine agreed. He rapped the side of her head gently with his knuckles. "But her mind is much like my own."

"That remains to be seen but I am yet eager. Come," Leonid said as he extended his hand out to Hinamei. "You must meet my wife. She is quite impressed with all that you've accomplished here." Though she was sure he was referring to the gallery, Hinamei suspected there was more to Leonid's words. She followed after him nonetheless.

Her mother was talking to who she supposed was Leonid's wife. A tall and limber woman with decidedly cold features; her hair was as snowy as her flesh and her eyes bragged a shocking electric blue—Kovshutin Inna was a distinguished beauty that heavily contrasted the dainty figure of Hinamei's own mother, Hana. From behind her was a glimpse of her two children, a lanky daughter who fidgeted with her hands but read the world with her owlish eyes and a son much too young to be wearing such a severe look. They were a curious bunch on the surface and perhaps even more abnormal to the core.

Inna flashed a white smile at the sight of her husband towing Hinamei. She placed kisses on either of the girl's cheeks before stepping back to praise her. "My, my," she breathed with exaggerated approval. "Quite beautiful, are you, _krykhitka?_"

"With an equally beautiful mind," Leonid added with a wink to Kine.

"My husband tells me you are the one who put this altogether, yes?"

"I couldn't possibly take all the credit," Hinamei spoke with false humility. "My classmates helped as well."

"And humble," Inna praised. "You are in the making of quite the young woman, my dear." Her daughter shifted from foot to foot behind her but did not say a thing. "Ah, this is my daughter Lucya and my son Fedir. They are both rather impressed with your exhibit, hmm?" They nodded their agreement and the daughter shuffled her feet once again. Inna leaned closer and whispered to Hinamei. "But it seems despite your efforts, the talk of the night is you." She flashed a smile Hinamei couldn't quite discern but returned nonetheless. Inna carried on her conversation with Hana then as Leonid cut in.

"Your father tells me your talents go beyond event planning," the man commented as he sipped from his drink.

Hinamei glanced at her father who wore an unreadable expression. Hinamei relied on his minute body language for the proper response. "I have _many_ talents, Pan Kovshutin," she said assuredly.

He grinned. "Rest in mind, I have no intention to exploit them, _krykhitka._ I only wish to see for myself what it is you Moris can do."

At this, Hinamei smirked. "There isn't much we aren't capable of."

Leonid exchanged a look with Kine who nodded in response. "That is my hope, _krykhitka._"

His hope would soon be tested.

Leonid lead the Moris away from the gallery towards a quiet hallway where no one seemed to roam. Hinamei wondered just what the man had in mind when she was forced to face the bane of her existence. She did her best to contain her abhorrence and only grimaced just a bit. Izaya's eyes glistened with mirth to her response before bowing respectfully to Leonid. After a small exchange of pleasantries, Izaya held open the backstage door to the school's theater. The curtains were drawn and the overhead lights were dimmed to give the space an ominous feel. In the center was a table surrounded by a haze of smoke where two men sat and a third hung back. Hinamei felt as if she had entered the wolf's den, even more so when they turned their hungry sights upon the group.

It was how she found herself in quite the predicament.

She wore a mask of stoicism though she feared she was coming as undone as the curly tendrils falling loose from her chignon. She nearly flinched as Izaya's fingers ghosted over her cheekbone pushing the stray hair behind her ear. She narrowed her eyes in silent warning though he only grinned in response. She was thankful that on the outside the exchange looked like nothing but one of admiration than one of fretful encouragement.

Leonid puffed from his cigar as his bored expression was blurred behind the haze of smoke. Kine rubbed his chin in seeming thought though the act was as transparent as glass to Hinamei. They were all counting on her and her ability to read lies; they would suffer more than just a monetary loss if she failed and even more so if she were to be found out. But no one would believe a schoolgirl had a "superpower?" It was this that truly kept her going.

She fiddled with her right earring before choosing to fold her cards. Her hand was good but that wasn't the point; she wanted their clients to think she was clueless. She was doing well, making small earnings here and there but she was out for the jackpot.

"Nothing again," Izaya sighed as he tossed his cards away. Though he sounded discouraged his smirk and lax posture contradicted the tone of his voice. He was the table's wildcard and the perfect distraction from their true scheme.

Hinamei eyed the other players, two men who looked as wicked as their names. Karasu was a tall man with shoulders as broad as his own legs. His hair was a thick, black mop that hung over furrowed brows. Nozuchi, on the other hand, was a bit more on the average side and could be considered willowy in build. It was not to say he was any less formidable; he wore a smile as sly as the curve of a snake's lips. They were an unsettling duo, even more so than their bodyguard spectating from his spot against the wall. But Hinamei refused to falter; she had dealt with much more fearsome men at even tenderer an age.

"Did you invite me here to rob you?" Nozuchi hissed in delight. He swept his winnings up like the eager glutton Hinamei discovered him to be.

"Don't let your luck cloud your judgement, cep," Leonid chided.

"You never know when the tables will turn," Kine added as he shuffled the deck. "Your cut."

Karasu cut the cards with little enthusiasm. Though he wasn't down, he wasn't impressed and the game was quickly losing his interest. Hinamei worried he would back out if they didn't act fast.

"What do you say we raise the stakes? Things are getting a little boring around here.~" Though she was annoyed by Izaya's intervention, Hinamei also found herself somewhat grateful. Perhaps she would admit that to him after they reigned victors. Nozuchi arched his brows, his grin widened and he leaned closer to hear the proposition. "All in on the next hand."

Nozuchi cackled while Karasu sighed. "Doesn't exactly pique my interest but at least it'll end this god-awful game."

"I don't think you're quite understanding me," Izaya said through his smirk. "We're all men of money." He motioned to his companions with his arms spread wide. "Money is hardly a gain, hmm?"

"Go on," Karasu said slowly.

"I offer my services to the man with the better hand."

Nozuchi sneered. "And what are you but a schoolboy?" he taunted.

"My prodigy," Kine said firmly. Hinamei bit her lip in annoyance. "He's learned everything I know, may soon enough surpass me."

"So what is it that you have to offer?" Karasu demanded.

"Alliance," Kine responded. "Better to be a friend of the Awakusu than an enemy."

"No doubt," Karasu nodded.

The duo turned to Leonid then who grinner over his cigar. "Oh me?" he chuckled. "Alliance as well but I assure you, I am on the path of a great venture, one you surely won't want to miss out on." The Kovshutin spoke for itself.

At this point, Nozuchi's eyes glittered with absolute desire until his sight fell upon Hinamei. He leered at her with pointed suspicion that sent her heart into a small panic.

"And the girl? What's she to a game of men?"

"Collateral," Izaya said with a flippant wave of his hand. Kine clenched his jaw but held his tongue. Hinamei was surprised she was able to do the same. "She's hardly anything to worry about anyhow. Lady Luck doesn't seem to be on her side."

Nozuchi clicked his tongue as he mulled the offer over. He exchanged a look from Karasu who shrugged. "And what is it you seek to gain? Surely there is something more to your proposition?"

"I'm glad you asked," Izaya said with a widening sneer. "My sources tell me your men have developed quite the antidote." Nozuchi scowled at once and Izaya shrugged. "I'm an informant; I know everything," he offered to his silent question. "However, chemistry isn't my strong suit.~" Hinamei inwardly groaned at his pun and concealed her grimace behind a sip of champagne.

"You want the Shifuku?" Karasu surmised.

"Not just the pill," Izaya clarified. "The rights, the distributors, and the manufacturers."

"And how is that a fair trade?" Nozuchi snapped.

"Not so confident now?" Leonid taunted. "We'll take the offers off the table if you have any qualms. I'm feeling rather lucky myself."

Nozuchi flashed a heated look at Karasu who merely shrugged in response. Nozuchi glowered before thrusting his bet into the pot with a heavy, "I'm in."

The others followed Nozuchi's lead although Karasu sat out. He eyed Hinamei as she deposited her own bet. "I sense a bit of injustice," he said, staring right at her face. She wondered if the fear had become apparent, that her mask was coming undone. "The girl has everything to gain and yet hardly anything to lose."

She managed a small smile, one she hoped was sweet yet sultry enough to sway Karasu's mind. "Didn't you hear? I'm collateral," she said. "I have just as much to lose as any of you."

"Tangible," Nozuchi agreed. "We need something more than that."

Kine cast his sights at his hands rather than his daughter. They had hoped it wouldn't have come to this.

"Very well," she said with the smile still in place. "If I lose, I forfeit myself."


	13. The Interrogation

_Past_

Nozuchi's sneer stretched beyond grotesque at the sound of Hinamei's proposal. "Just like that, you'll give yourself away?" He cackled. "And who's to say I'll accept your offer?"

"She's young," Izaya explained flippantly. "You could sell her on the black market if you wanted to."

This time, Hinamei cast a glare at the delinquent. "I assure you," she said sternly before turning back to Nozuchi, "that I am much more valuable than that. But suit yourself; if the offer does not stand…" She motioned to pull back her bet when Nozuchi clasped her hand.

He leered at her in a sickening way as he said, "no, no. All in."

And so the cards were shuffled out and Hinamei felt a tightening in her gut. She held a two of diamonds and a six spade and the flop consisted of a ten of hearts, a club six, and a king of hearts. Her hand was weak and it seemed that all had been dealt in their favors or so their tells read. Nozuchi scarcely could contain his smugness whenever he wielded a worthy hand; his poker face was all but nonexistent. The fact that he was grinning behind his cards unsettled Hinamei.

Her father was dealt a fair hand by the way he stared long at his cards then back to the flop. She could see the calculations in his mind through his eyes, figuring out how he could possibly turn his hand into a winner.

Leonid was much like Nozuchi though his arrogance wasn't quite as loud. He'd suck a deep breath from his cigar as though to wipe away the trace of the smile from his lips. Then he'd give out a heavy sigh and fold his arms across his chest and gauge the others' reactions.

Izaya, as Hinamei pointed out, was the wildcard. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking and even his supposed tells were not dead giveaways. It was the smallest details, Hinamei quickly scrutinize—the way his eyes would widen slightly or his brow would twitch slightly upward. He must've had something decent for both tells to occur under Hinamei's watch.

Now it was her turn to pass on the intel. She swept her bangs behind her ear in a slow, meaningful way. She was careful to avoid making eye contact with the others lest their cover be blown. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand as she waited for the calls to be made. Kine checked; Leonid the same; Izaya raised to twenty-two thousand yen; Nozuchi met his bet as did the others. The turn revealed a jack of spades. Kine raised as did Leonid and the others met the new bet. Meanwhile, Nozuchi's irksome sneer grew like that of the Cheshire cat. Something was not right; his body language boasted such arrogance that no deceit could be concealed; his hand was good and she feared it would ruin them all.

She fiddled with her earring as she casted her sight to the river. A jack of hearts revealed itself and Nozuchi barked out a laugh. "Too late to back out," he goaded the others on.

They all knew what was at stake.

Kine checked as did Leonid; Izaya made a confident raise that was met by all of the members. With no further bets, the hands were revealed in a painstakingly slow fashion. Surprisingly, Leonid held the worst hand with an eight of clubs and a nine of spades; he had been hoping the river would spit out a queen. Hinamei ended up with a weak two pair of sixes and jacks. Izaya was next with a pair of kings and jacks; if the river hadn't given the second jack to him, he still would've had a second pair of tens.

It came down to Kine and Nozuchi's hands. Nozuchi set out his pocket sixes. "Full house," he said and the knot in Hinamei's gut tightened; had the others not heeded her warnings? Nozuchi's sight fell on her at once and he leered like the gremlin he was. "No take backs," he said in a menacing sing-song voice.

From her side, Izaya smirked. "I hope you are a man of your word, Nozu-kun.~"

Nozuchi looked as though he would snap at the delinquent's gall until Kine revealed his own hand, a queen and ace of hearts. Kine managed a royal flush which beat out all the other hands.

Nozuchi snarled at his turn of luck. "What a coincidence this is! Wouldn't you say, Karasu?" he spat venomously at the others. "What are the chances the father wins the rights to his daughter, hmm? I sense a cheat is in the room."

Karasu eyed Nozuchi in disdain before motioning their bodyguard over with a flick of his hand. Wordlessly, the man silenced the raving snake with a swift thump to the back of his head. He crashed onto the table unconscious and silent and though a small weight had been lifted, there was certainly a thick tension in the air.

Karasu scanned the faces of the players as though to coax the truth from their souls. No one spoke as a heavy silence wedged between them. Alas, Karasu gave an annoyed sigh before tossing a business card onto the table.

"The cretin may not be a man of his word," he said solemnly, "but I always pay my debts. Please call that number to set up the arrangements. The Shifuku belongs to you, Mr. Kine."

Leonid and Kine exchanged a look before Leonid spoke up. "And how will we know you will hold to your word? Excuse me for not being so trusting."

Karasu stood as the bodyguard swept up Nozuchi. "Shifuku was only the beginning for me. Do what you want with it and meanwhile, I'll be coming up with the next product. You may be good with dirt," he said pointedly to Kine and Izaya, "but I am a master chemist. Pleasure doing business with you, gentleman and Miss Mori."

They nodded their agreeance and took off. No one spoke until the trio were well out of sight. It started with a smack.

"Collateral?" Hinamei snarled as she drew her hand back from another strike.

"Don't be so angry with me," Izaya whined. "_You_ were the one who offered yourself up!"

She smacked him again, too quickly for him to dodge. "You have to be prepared for worst case scenarios!"

"And either way, you'd end up as collateral!"

"Papa," she turned her rage to her father then who had been looking on with weary eyes. "You can't seriously be considering taking this imbecile as your successor? He'll bring dishonor to the Awakusu-kai, to the very Mori name!"

He ran a hand over his face as Leonid chuckled beside him. "Not now, Hinamei," he groaned. "We'll discuss this at a later time. For now, how about you two enjoy the rest of the night? Preferably far from illegal activities?"

Hinamei opened her mouth to retort when Izaya snatched at her hand and pulled her quickly from her seat. "I'll see to it she has the time of her life, trust me, Mr. Kine.~"

Kine scowled if only just a bit before waving the duo off.

Hinamei tore her hand from Izaya's hold the moment he had dragged her into a hall off of the exhibit gallery. He was unfazed by her callousness and instead, seemed amused with himself and how the night played out.

"And now that that's over," he said, skirting in front of her path. "Back to our own little wager. I think it's time to pay up.~"

"What?"

He smirked before spinning behind her and pushing her towards the exhibit by her shoulders. He paused right at one of the side entrances, out of sight of the guests but in a position where they were all in plain view to them.

"What is it that you see?"

"Appreciation of my hard work," she said simply.

Izaya scoffed before pointing over her shoulder. "Look closely over there." She peered in the direction he motioned to and found her mother, Inna and her children, conversing and admiring the art just as they were hours ago when they had left them.

"People from seedy backgrounds?"

She could just sense the dramatic roll of Izaya's eyes. "Normalcy," he grounded out as he slid in front of her again. "If not for my convincing, your father would have left you to this life of the mundane, tonight and henceforth. I told him you would be a valuable asset for tonight's transaction; it took some pushing but he finally budged. We succeeded because of you…and me, of course."

Though Hinamei was somewhat flattered, his own pomp cancelled out her gratitude. "You lost as well," Hinamei pointed out. "And persuading Karasu and Nozuchi to offer up Shifuku was too easy; anyone could've done it."

"But it was I.~"

Her eyes narrowed. "You're annoying," she said plainly. "And if you can't tell, you lost the bet. I have just as much interest in you as I've ever had and ever will." She made to walk away when he snatched her by the wrist and spun her around so her back lightly thumped against the wall.

He smirked deviously and leaned in close. "I told you I would make you see what I see. Would you like to know what that is?" She didn't respond at a loss for words. "A girl who gets off on danger," he purred. "No interest in living an average life. You surround yourself with abnormalities, conscious or not. And despite what you cry, I can hear the hint of excitement in your voice when you tell me to go away. Face it, Hinamei." The way her name rolled off his tongue sounded like nothing Hinamei had ever heard before. "I've caught your interest and you'll do everything in your power to keep it that way."

He stepped away though the space between them was still charged enough Hinamei feared she would be shocked. Izaya smirked at her lack of a reaction before he reached out and tucked her bangs behind her ear. "You should know," he said in the same, husky way. He eyed her up and down shamelessly. "When I asked for you to wear something nice, I never imagined anything quite as _daring_ as this.~" He winked as he shoved his hands into his pockets and made to part ways. "Have a good night, Hina-chan.~"

And with that, Izaya disappeared around the corner along with Hinamei's sensibility.

* * *

_Present_

Their hostage was a man named Ken and though his name boasted strength, it was apparent it was one attribute he lacked. Hinamei tossed the stun gun he had used against her back and forth between her hands absentmindedly. She mulled over everything he revealed, frowning at Izaya.

"So the kid was right," she mused. "The Blue Squares have it out for you."

Izaya scoffed as he scrolled Ken's phone. "Who doesn't?"

Hinamei couldn't argue. "His girlfriend approached me the other night at the show," she confessed. "Said they knew it would be scheduled for that night."

Izaya's attention flickered to her momentarily. "Nakahara Reiji? His girl?"

She nodded. "Name's Asato Kishi. Tried to warn me in exchange for the kid's leader again."

Izaya locked the phone's screen before offering Hinamei his full attention. "Tell me," he said slowly. "How would Asato or Nakahara have any intel on the Blue Squares' agenda?"

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Hinamei was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. They peered over the couch to find a shocked Anya standing in the doorway.

"Am I…" She scrutinized the scene before her, eyeing the man bound and flailing desperately in the chair that restrained him to the calm duo seated before him on the couch. "…interrupting something?"

"Stalker," Hinamei clarified. "Snuck into the apartment last night looking for him." She jabbed her thumb towards Izaya. "We're just trying to get some answers."

Anya looked between the three with a bemused expression. "Then I wish you good luck," she offered as she stepped out her heels. "I'll just grab a few things and be on my way. Should I phone our manager and tell him you're…_tied up?_" A little sneer marred her lips. Hinamei shot her a dirty look and the woman shrugged, sauntering in. "Don't mind me. I'll be out in a few."

When she disappeared behind the guest bedroom door, Hinamei directed her scowl to Ken. "I don't understand why you're so eager to get her attention," she chided. "Anya has no sympathy; she only cares for herself. I'm convinced there's a black hole where her heart's supposed to be."

Izaya snorted under his breath which resulted in a swift pinch to the cheek. "Speaking from experience?" he goaded.

Hinamei rolled her eyes. "Enough, let's get to the bottom of this." She turned and pointed the taser at her hostage. "Be a good boy and I'll let you leave."

"Did you say 'live' or 'leave?' Either way, that's generous of you." She ignored Izaya's banter.

"We're gonna ask you a series of questions," Hinamei explained. "I need you to answer them to the best of your knowledge—and they better be damn good responses—and honest ones, at that. I'll know if you're lying and believe me when I say," she flicked on the taser and held it threateningly close to his throat, "I don't. Like. _Liars._ Am I understood?" Ken nodded and gave a muffled affirmation. Hinamei smiled pleasantly and turned the stun gun off. "We'll start with the basics then. When did this all begin?"

She ripped off the duct tape from his mouth and he take a heavy breath before he began. He glanced between the devious informant and the wicked model before him. He then eyed the door the woman disappeared behind as though wishing for her intervention. None came.

"Pass," he said boldly.

Hinamei glowered and hastily switched on the taser, prevented from shocking her captive only by a chuckling Izaya. "Don't be so eager to break in your new toy," he teased and Hinamei reluctantly obliged. "We need to go about this differently. How about you explain this?" Izaya wagged Ken's phone in his face, the screen lighting something that obviously affected the hostage in such a way. Izaya leered at the man's reaction.

Hinamei took the phone to see what Izaya had revealed. "Me?" she asked in genuine surprise, looking between the two men. She groaned when she handed the device over to Izaya and took a healthy sip from her glass of wine. "So I was right," she said to Ken. "You _are_ a stalker."

He "_umphed_" but otherwise said nothing in response. Izaya was evidently amused. "So which is it?" he prompted. "The model or the informant? Who was your true target, Ken-chan?"

"You," he offered quickly before nodding his head toward Hinamei. "She was just a bonus."

"Spoken like a true rabid Miss Mori fan.~"

Ken opened his mouth to speak only for Hinamei to slap the duct tape back over his lips. "I told you I don't like liars," she warned. She turned to her partner. "He's giving us half-truths."

"So which part is the lie?"

Hinamei eyed Ken. "It's…hard to tell."

Izaya scoffed. "Useless as ever," he muttered to himself.

Hinamei took one of the decorative pillows and slapped it roughly across the side of Izaya's head. "Next time, I'll smother you with it!"

He frowned, focused on Ken's phone rather than the insipid model. There was something off about the functions, something that made the phone lag as he browsed through its contents. There were times when it would pause and a green and black ribbon would cross the screen. It was speaking volumes more than its owner.

"Water damage?" Izaya prompted.

Ken gave a solid nod "yes." Hinamei folded one leg over the other before resting an elbow on the arm of the couch. She narrowed her eyes at her hostage, rubbing her bottom lip in thought. "Liar," she accused. She waved her other hand at Izaya. "Give me that; let me see if I can unlock it." At Izaya's skeptical look, the model rolled her eyes. "I was rejected from prep schools because of my track record, not my scores, Izaya."

"Even so, who's to say our friend over here didn't inflict some brain damage in your little tumble?" He offered her the phone despite the sneer.

"Keep going if you'd like to be next," she warned. She fiddled with the settings for a moment and frowned. "Password," she demanded before tearing off Ken's gag.

He looked at her incredulously. "Why would I give that to you? I've told you all that I already know!"

She shook the cell in her hand. "False. You haven't given me the password to break into this."

Ken quite nearly growled in frustration though he was still sweating heavy bullets. "The Blue Squares hired me and I don't know what for! They told me to get him and that's it, just like I said!"

"Liar," Izaya and Hinamei said in unison.

Hinamei exited from the settings and began to rummage through the rest of the device's content. She scrolled through his browsing history and arched a brow at one of his most frequented sites, a Miss Mori fanpage. "I'm starting to believe you came for me," she said. Ken tensed at one as he shook his head in disbelief. "Wouldn't you come to the same conclusion based on your contribution to these threads?" She held out his phone for him to see before passing it back to Izaya.

Izaya perused through some of the conversations before a wide smirk played on his face. "I know you," he said suddenly as he clicked back onto the phone's settings. "You're the pervy kid who went on and on about Hinamei's legs when she was coming off her plane."

Hinamei seemed a bit surprised by the revelation before narrowing her eyes at Ken. "You've been keeping tabs on me since I arrived?" she hissed. "Or was it before that, hmm, stalker?"

"I c-came for h-him," Ken spat. "Y-You just happened to b-be at the wrong place at the wrong t-time!"

"Is that so, _Matsuda Shota_?~"

Ken's eyes looked as though they would bug out. Hinamei couldn't help but bark a laugh. "Is that what you're calling yourself online?!" She quite nearly fell into hysterics. The man before them was a far cry from the actor his username projected him to be. "Why Matsuda of all people? Is it because we shot an editorial together?" Though she was only teasing, she took Ken's silence as confirmation. "My god, I'm right!" Izaya shot Hinamei a look in an attempt to curb her laughter. She shortly fell to just chuckles and after a sip of wine, her humor vanished. "Ginza," she offered. "That's the name of the magazine the editorial was published in. Try that for his password." Before Ken could object, Hinamei slapped the tape back on his mouth.

Izaya was evidently pleased when the phone's screen flashed in complete clarity. There were apps that had previously been locked under the hack, hidden from view and now entirely accessible. Izaya chose the messages first to see who he had been in contact with. When he scrolled through the threads, he paused one particular name for a very long time. He didn't say a word, just simply stared at the name of Ken's contact.

"Well?" Hinamei prompted, pulling Izaya from his thoughts.

He neither smiled nor sneered nor even frowned when he locked the phone's screen to keep the contents from Hinamei's sight. He didn't look at Ken and he certainly didn't look at her, just at the dark screen in his hand. After a moment, he tossed the phone back and forth in his hand before analyzing the model's impatient face.

"I think we found the connection," he supplied, "but I don't think you'll like what I have to say."

"Do I ever?"

Izaya handed the cell to Hinamei in response. "You're right to believe the guy wasn't after me," he said. Hinamei opened up the phone where Izaya had left off. Her normal easy composure went suddenly rigid and she didn't take a breath. Something horrid coursed through Hinamei then, from the phone to her spine, something so heinous that her body was too stiff to even quiver in fear.

Izaya didn't relish in the model's reaction—it was something he could never bring himself to do, not this. So he waited for her to come to and alas she did with a whisper of, _"Manbo Kuro."_

The man behind her flight from Ikebukuro.

Hinamei did not hesitate to fling Ken, chair and all, from the balcony of her penthouse. She finished her glass of wine and carried on, business as usual.


	14. The Theory

_Present_

Shortly after Ken's muffled cries sounded from his tumble from the balcony, Anya reared her head from the guest door way with a displeased mug. She made her hasty exit, muttering something about not wanting to be "an accessory to murder." Neither Izaya nor Hinamei paid the imposter any mind.

There was a long silence after Ken's fall. Only the soft pad of Hinamei's footsteps upon the floor and the clink of the wine bottle against the glass. Hinamei took quiet sips from her merlot, sight trained on the spot where she had been attacked but mind far from that memory.

Izaya swiveled impatiently on one of the bar stools while eyeing the model in disdain. He wanted her to react—no, he wanted her to lash out—but she didn't honor him with even a fraction of such a response. Instead, she momentarily traded her wine for a compact and touched up the purple bruises on her face.

She caught his reflection pouting at her like some spoiled child and she sighed as she resigned to pay him mind. "Well, what is it that you want?" she asked snippily. "There's something you're dying to let off your tongue so let's hear it."

"My, my," Izaya teased, resting his cheek on his knuckles. "For a woman who just sent a man to his death, you seem rather placid, Hina-chan.~"

She closed the compact with a hard snap. "Bite me." She bit at her thumb nail as she started to pace.

Izaya smiled, pleased with himself. "Have I finally incurred your infamous wrath? It's been quite a long time since I've seen your claws.~"

She swiveled to face him not with a scowl but a smirk. She sauntered right up to him, leaving only a breath of space. "And if I recall correctly," she said in a sultry way, "the last time you _felt_ them was when they were raking down your back."

To that, Izaya scoffed and grabbed her chin rather boldly. "Go on, Hinamei," he said. "Flatter yourself. You and I both know you were nothing but a bed-warmer.~"

Alas, a spark of fury lit up her eyes but she reigned in her anger and pulled away from Izaya's touch. "Shouldn't we be dealing with the issue at hand instead of creating one of our own?" Her voice had a hint of scorn.

Izaya took the transition as an admission of defeat and felt his whole body tingle in absolute delight. She was right, he knew, but he wanted to keep goading her on. He would remember this conversation for another time. "It seems this is more of an issue for _you_ than it is for _me_." Hinamei tensed and narrowed her eyes accusingly at the informant. He skipped off the barstool, giddy. "Mr. Kuro's your acquaintance, not mine.~"

"Don't speak so flippantly," she chided. "I thought I had taken care of him." She began pacing again, tapping her frown in thought. "I should've thrown _him_ off the balcony," she mused.

"That would imply having him in your apartment," Izaya supplied. "Didn't he—"

"Hold your tongue or so help me, I will cut it off, Orihara," the model snapped.

His wide grin fell into a pleased smirk but he said nothing more. Though he felt joy from unsettling the model, there was a black sickness that followed like the feeling after a shot of whiskey. It was dry and rancid and burnt like hell. As much as he loathed Mori Hinamei, the informant despised Kuro Manbo infinitely more. Where did the man get off, affecting the model in such a way Izaya never could? He buried the thought away by digging his hands into his coat and spinning around on his heels.

"Fine, fine," he conceded. "What is it that you suppose we do?"

"Ken's phone," Hinamei declared. "Dig through it and find dirt. There's no way in hell he came here for you; it's too much of a coincidence."

Izaya frowned and spun the phone around in one hand. "Is that an order?"

Hinamei groaned as she fell heavily in a plush armchair. "You are a headache in human form!" She held out the hand that wasn't rubbing her forehead in frustration. "Give it here then. I'll have plenty of time now that that bastard has ruined my face."

"So I suppose your vanity will override our agreement?" Izaya taunted as he passed Hinamei the phone.

"Someone has it out for me and you want to tote me around with a face like _this_?" She pointed dramatically to the blemish on her face and scowled. "Oh no, I refuse to face the paparazzi looking anything less than perfect." Izaya snorted but his response was cut off by a rap at the door. Hinamei crossed the space and peered into the peephole and cursed under her breath. "You need to leave," she hissed and took him roughly by the arm. She guided Izaya towards her bedroom.

"Care to explain?"

She said nothing as she shoved off the items littered across the wardrobe beneath the window. She yanked the curtain aside and heaved the heavy pane open, knocking the screen out onto the awaiting fire escape. "No," she said curtly. "Now out you go." Izaya made no motion to move. At this point, Hinamei quite nearly lost all of her patience and she yanked the informant by his hand. "If Heiwajima doesn't kill you, I most certainly will! He's waiting just outside that door and I'll be damned if he ruins any of my décor in an attempt to get to you."

Izaya feigned a look of hurt but Hinamei shoved him onto the dresser all the same. "I'd say you're ashamed of me, Hina-chan, to toss me out the window like garbage.~"

"I am and you are."

Thankfully, Izaya obliged but not before attempting to taunt Hinamei once more. The moment she caught his lips part, she scowled and promptly slammed and locked the window behind him, swinging the drapes shut dramatically. With one delinquent out of her hair, she prepared to deal with the next.

She quickly shimmied out of her cocktail dress into something a bit more casual. She locked the bedroom door behind her for good measure. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror one last time before finally answering the door. She opened it just enough to poke her head around the side and feigned amusement at the sight of her guests.

"Heiwajima-chan, is that you?" she cooed. "How nice of you to visit!"

He placed his heavy hand on her head and easily pushed her back into her apartment. "You dropped this," he grunted, dragging in none-other-than Ken. He gave her a disapproving look—or perhaps that was just his face—to which Hinamei promptly responded with a scowl of her own.

"The trash chute is down the hall," she muttered. "You can leave him in the hallway for the time being."

Heiwajima had no qualms tossing the bound Ken back into the hallway before moving aside for Celty. This time, Hinamei's delight was genuine.

"Celty-san!" The headless rider gave an encouraging wave. Hinamei glanced between her two guests and frowned. "Do you know each other?" she asked slowly.

Shizuo turned to Celty as though for her response before he gave a curt, "yeah."

"For how long?" The envy was evident in her voice.

_"I've known him as Shinra's friend since they were in grade school. We became better acquainted over the years."_

"I see." Hinamei spun to Shizuo then with her glower. "I can understand Izaya keeping Celty from me—he'd do anything to keep me from being happy— but _you_…I'm _hurt_, Shizu-chan."

He made an annoyed "_tfft_" as he shrugged past her towards the French doors to the balcony. He was itching to take a smoke to calm the nerves the model was grating on. Hinamei took the hint and lead them outside.

"It was Shinra's business to tell, not mine," said the blonde as he lit a cigarette. Though he meant to placate the offended, he only riled her up more.

"Shinra?" she whined. "Did I have _any_ honest friends in high school?"

Shizuo took a short drag from his cigarette. "No."

Hinamei fell dramatically upon the lounge and pouted at Celty. "Surely you feel my pain, Celty, having to deal with these awful men?"

"I won't speak for that damn louse," Shizuo ground out, "nor will I defend Kishitani but I am not so awful a man to throw _another_ off a high-rise balcony."

If he meant to embarrass her, Hinamei was hardly affected. "You give Ken-chan too much credit," she muttered. "That was no man but a dirty little _rat_." Something about Celty's body language gave Hinamei the impression that she wanted to know what Ken had done. "A stalker," Hinamei explained. "Broke in and attacked me in my own house." She wasn't quite ready to give further details. What she provided would have to suffice and she didn't really care if her actions were justified in their eyes anyhow.

The cigarette in Shizuo's hold bent, ruined. "Stalker?"

Hinamei held up an imaginary glass in mock salute. "Welcome to Ikebukuro."

_"Are you alright?"_

The model self-consciously fingered at the bruise on her face and frowned. She shrugged. "I suppose," she said. "I won't be able to work for a few weeks so I took this as collateral." She wagged Ken's phone between her fingers before shoving the device away.

"An isolated incident?" Shizuo prompted.

Hinamei wondered then if he knew why she had left the city. They had a falling out when she and Izaya had fallen together; she imagined Shizuo didn't bother himself to keep up with her life when she had done little to keep up with his. But perhaps Shizuo wasn't as selfish as she was—no, in fact she _knew_ he wasn't. Nevertheless, she still doubted he knew the truth behind her exodus years before. Ken, she was convinced, was no isolated incident—he was only the start to something more, something that should've ended years before.

Hinamei forced a small smile. "Let's hope so." She rose and turned inside. "I'm running short on glasses but I do have a few snifters. Care for some brandy?" She hardly waited for a response as she fetched the glasses from the kitchen. Her hands began to shake and she placed them firmly on the counters to stop them. A deep breath sent a horrible shudder down her back. She eyed the glasses yearning for their poison before her attention flitted to one of the cabinet drawers. Her own body craved intoxication but not by way of liquor.

She glanced back at the balcony where Shizuo and Celty waited, oblivious to her state. When she was convinced they would never know, she flung the drawer open and dug her hand into a plastic bag filled with colorful, unmarked capsules. She threw back three like sweet candies, no water, and little tears sprung at the corner of her eyes. She clutched at the edge of the counter as if it were her sanity before taking one last breath in of composure.

Soon enough her day would pass by in a beautiful hypnotic haze.

* * *

_Past_

Though she fiercely asserted her disinterest in a certain delinquent, Mori Hinamei certainly had a peculiar way of showing it. After their success on the night of the art exhibit, Hinamei and Izaya had failed to cross paths again. It wasn't as if she was exactly looking to come across her father's prodigy but she did find it odd that the boy who once followed after her like some sad puppy was suddenly nowhere to be found. And rather than bring about relief, the Mori heir was rather annoyed by the turn of events.

Whether consciously or not, she roamed the hallways as if the change in her routine would bring about the informant in training. To her displeasure, each path led her further away from what she desired and dangerously closer to explosive vexation. She swore the moment she crossed Izaya again, she would have her slender fingers coiled tightly around his neck.

If the image meant to placate her, it somehow managed to produce the opposite effect when she considered he would be sporting that irksome sneer. How was it that the very thought of him could bother her so much? She took out her agitation by throwing open the heavy metal door leading to the school's roof. It cracked against the brick before giving a pathetic whine at the hinges before leaving her to herself.

She deposited her sack lunch onto the bleachers before standing on the lowest seat. She gazed out across the courtyard below, at the students blissfully unaware of her scrutiny. Seeing them laugh so carelessly reminded her of what Izaya had said to her before and she scrunched her nose in disgust. Could she truly be so opposed to the mundane? And if so, how could she truly test his theory?

A few years back, some of the upperclassman came up with some prank involving bed sheets tied to the fence lining the roof. They had linked the linens together to make a chain from the top to bottom of the school, the creation dangling right outside their classrooms. Geniuses (every now and then) graduated from Raijin; this, by no means, was one of their ideas. Needless to say, the sheets couldn't support very much weight. The result: a giant hole in the chain link fence and a student paralyzed the week before graduation. The kid got his diploma; the school never fixed the damage. It was this Hinamei had become fixated on.

What if the students were not too different from Hinamei, herself? Was the prank just that-meaningless fun? Or was some darker desire rooted deep within their cores?

She inched closer and closer until she found herself framed by the gap.

The edges were rusted and jagged. A touch would surely prick. Just as one foot took to the ledge, she took a step back at the loud clunk of the door swinging open.

She swiveled her head around towards the intruder and felt her throat constrict at the sight. It was almost as if some beacon had alerted Izaya but not to intervene. No, that was beyond the boy's capacity. It was as if fate had brought him (and his gaggle of admirers) to witness her dabble into insanity. How foolish of her to be caught in his snare. She should've known.

He grinned at her fierce glower. She made to storm off the roof, thoroughly humiliated. Before she could make her escape, Izaya pushed past the girls surrounding him and trailed down the stairwell after Hinamei. She could just feel the mocking sneer upon her back and she snapped around with the fury of a snarling beast. She wouldn't be surprised if she looked very much like one too.

"Come to ridicule me further, Orihara?"

He arched an amused brow. "My, my," he taunted. "And here I thought you were different. I suppose you blame someone else for your own foolishness like every other human, hmm?" The devastation overcame the hurt. Izaya was pleased with himself. "You've been looking for me, haven't you?" He didn't bother for a response. "If it wasn't apparent back then, I suppose it is now..." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. His smirk grew as the next words came, "So I have _finally_ caught your interest." Before she could object, he closed the distance between them and caged his arms about her to have her even closer than she would admit for comfort. "No use in denying it," he said. "If anything, you should take me if only for the sake of having one, true friend.~"

She gave one, short laugh. "You'll have me believe I'm some adrenaline junkie and then convince myself to seek danger. Who in the right mind would befriend someone like you?"

Rather than look offend, delight lit Izaya's face. He rested his forehead against hers, forcing her sight on nothing but his own narrowed eyes. "That's the thing," he murmured. His breath ghosted across the swell of her lips. "_No one _in the right mind would befriend someone like me..._you, however..._"

She had reached her limit when she made to slap him. He evaded her blow and restrained her, wedging her between himself and the wall. She became conscious of the blade he held close to her neck and the way he rested his cheek against the side of her head. His mouth softly grazed her ear as he spoke from a proud grin.

"This is the only time you feel alive, isn't it? It's why you seek me out. Face it. Normalcy will never be something you can obtained. Not with where you come from, not with where you're going. You once hired Heiwajima as a hitman; you've befriended the delusional boy that is Shinra. He's dangerous, y'know. Of course, you know! Because danger it what you _attract_, Hinamei. It is what you actively seek and desire. Why deny it any longer? Why-?"

He was suddenly cut off by her break through his hold on her. She managed to pin the delinquent to the opposing wall, her arm pushed against his windpipe and her hand firmly holding his wrist in a way he can't break to use his knife.

"You talk far too much," she said in a dark voice. She stepped away from him and tidied her mussed uniform. "I don't seek danger," she corrected. "It just happens to find me."

The sneer inched upward at the admission. "I think you may have fallen in love with me just then.~"

She glowered. "If you ever imply I'm insane again, I'll turn your theory into fact."

Izaya chuckled. "For future reference, if you ever need to find me, check the biology hall first."

Hinamei already made for her departure. Izaya hurried to catch up with her before they could truly part ways. He grabbed her by the arm to stop her and grinned once again. "No need to get so worked up when I'm gone. If you can't find me, I'll always find you.~"

Hinamei muttered under her breath as she snatched her arm away, thoroughly annoyed with the delinquent and yet somehow, pleasantly fulfilled.


	15. The Catalyst

_Present_

The model was pulled from her reverie by a waving hand in front of her eyes. She blinked away the memory and attempted to process the present. If Celty had a face, Hinamei was sure it would be scrawled with concern. Her body language spoke volumes and the model did her best to feign composure.

_"You were gone for a while...Is everything alright?"_

It felt wrong to lie to the dullahan who quite plausibly could be the one honest being in all of Ikebukuro. But Hinamei was ruined as Izaya so often said. And so she forced a pretty smile and poured her guests their drinks. It wasn't until the two returned to the patio that Hinamei realized with no head, Celty also lacked a mouth. She laughed at her mistake before claiming the glass as her own.

Shizuo preferred a fresh cigarette to the liquor. He took a long drag, eyeing his old colleague taking a hearty sip from her brandy. There was something off about her demeanor. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He took another drag before speaking. "You've seen Orihara?" Though posed as a question, it seemed as if the ex-bartender already knew the answer.

Perhaps Hinamei should've had the decency to look sheepish. Instead, she merely shrugged. "Guilty," she said to the blonde's distaste.

"Trouble follows that louse," he warned as he had so many times before.

Hinamei smiled. "He says the same thing about me."

An annoyed huff sounded from the back of his throat. Shizuo modeled incredible restraint. "Contrary to what he'll have you believe," he growled, "you are no _dog._"

Hinamei lips lingered along the brim of her glass before setting it down on the table. "It is right to fear what you don't understand," she agreed, "but what is infinitely worse is to understand that in which you fear. Knowledge itself can be quite dangerous."

"Don't speak to me in tongues," Shizuo muttered. He put out his cigarette and threw the butt over the railing. "If the flea gets you in trouble, let me know."

The sentiment caught Hinamei off guard. She masked her surprise with a sneer as she lounged back in her seat and ran a hand luxuriously through her hair. "How chivalrous of you to protect me from another man," she said condescendingly. "But who's to say _I'm_not the threat to myself?"

Shizuo rested his heavy hand firmly atop her head. "Stop trying to piss me off," he grumbled. "I'll take care of the problem at your door so long as you handle the rest."

She wanted to mutter an "easier said than done" but opted for a simple "deal." She ushered her guests back to the hallway where the bound Ken still sat, petrified and quivering. Shizuo swept up the stalker as Celty bid the model adieu.

_"If there's anything you need, please contact me Mori-san."_

Hinamei offered a small, genuine smile. "You both are so abnormally kind. No wonder Izaya takes a special interest in you two."

Ken yelped when Shizuo's hold tightened around him. He spat a loud _"tch!"_ but otherwise did not retaliate. Celty bowed her thanks and soon enough, they were gone.

It was then the effects of her antidote began to kick in. Her body tingled like a spark feeding the fire. Her breathing was labored and a sensation of its own. She held onto the door for support lest her weak, spindly legs give out. She dared to cross the distance from the entry to the kitchen island. It was the journey of newborn legs. She slapped her hands on the granite and savored the cool beneath her palms. "Oh my god..." she whispered. She laid flat across the counter top, coaxing any bit of skin to taste the chill of the surface.

As her body adjusted she wondered what was a life without intoxication? It was undoubtedly addicting. Be it poison or people, it was life she had never known. She grinned to herself, wanting it no other way. And right as she imagined her spiral downward would take her to Wonderland, reality reared its ugly head with a tacky ringtone and a caller ID reading Manbo Kuro.

She rolled over to the sink adjacent to her and purged the full contents of her belly, filling the emptiness with a gross sickness she feared could never be cured.

* * *

Elsewhere, Izaya gracefully spun his blade between his fingers in one hand while the other typed away. He adjusted the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear as he listened patiently to Akabayshi's inquiry.

"It's been weeks and we have yet to see progress," he said. "I'm starting to believe perhaps you're not the man for the job?"

Izaya _tsked_ both to the man's suggestion on the message board he was perusing. He directed his attention to the man on the phone momentarily, depositing the phone into his hand. "Weren't you the one who said this was a sensitive mission?" Akabayshi made a muffled sound that was far from pleased. Izaya smirked with delight. "The first phase is complete; phase two is in motion."

"How much longer should I expect?"

Izaya rose from his spot at the computer to stare out at the city beyond his window. His sight flicked across the horizon and he licked his lips before he spoke again. "An idiot once told me, 'patience is a virtue.' It would be in your best interest to practice it, Aka-kun, lest you die at a young age.~"

"Just get it done, Orihara."

"Ciao.~" He pocketed the phone and remained still for a moment. He thought of Hinamei and his task at hand and how she was none the wiser. She was a sad, beautiful marionette with no idea who pulled the strings. He wondered how long she could be played before she finally would break. He was filled with glee at the prospect and hurried to work diligently on the model's imminent downfall.

The sadist made his move.

* * *

_Past_

Success followed the Moris after the take down of Nozuchi and Karasu. The black market of Ikebukuro yearned to possess their gain, the infamous drug Shifuku. The profit margins knew no bounds. Needless to say, all seemed to be going well, even more so on one fateful day. It had gone much like any other.

Izaya smirked at the schoolgirl he had found his accomplice in. They had become quite the team. Though they often butted heads and at first, their clients doubted them, at the end of the day there was nothing the two couldn't accomplish together. Yet some tasks called for the solo road and it was on this afternoon their paths diverged.

Though she had rolled her eyes at him, a small smile tugged at Hinamei's lips. Izaya was a pest at times but it was hard to deny his charm.

As they waited for her driver to come around the block, a man rushed out from the building behind them as if to catch up to the duo. They exchanged looks before going on guard.

The man held a hand up to signal he needed a moment to catch his breath. When he finally recovered, his attention was set on Hinamei. Izaya hung back to see how the situation played out.

"Mori Hinamei?" he gasped. She nodded her head to confirm. He lit up with delight. "I thought I recognized you!"

"I'm sorry...have we met?"

He shook his head, composing himself by loosening the top button to his shirt. "Ah, no. I haven't made your acquaintance but you do perhaps know the family I work for. Kovshutin Leonid?"

Hinamei nodded. "Oh, yes. He and my father work together. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes! No need to worry. In fact, the Kovshutins spoke so highly of you that I could not help but put the name to the face." He smiled endearingly and beside her, Hinamei heard Izaya scoff. She ignored him and took the compliment with grace before turning to the car. The man stuttered. "W-wait!" Izaya had already clambered in and cast an annoyed look towards Hinamei as if to order her to do the same. She spared the man another moment to say his piece. He dug into his pocket and handed her a business card. He explained before she could finish reading. "They said your beauty compares to no other but they did you no justice. I think you really could make a living off your body," he grinned again, "and I'll be more than happy to see to your success."

Before Hinamei could have him clarify (or even be rightly offended), he hurried off to make a call. Confused and disinterested, she threw the card into her bag for another day. Little did she know the man would bestow upon her quite unspeakable horrors. He was the man who would drive her from Ikebukuro. He was Manbo Kuro and he was the start of it all.


	16. The Rescuer

_Present_

She had to get out of the apartment lest she truly go insane. She tumbled into her trainers and out the door, swinging a large pair of glasses over her face in hopes of disguising herself. She slapped her hand over her mouth as stomach turned on the elevators descent. She berated herself for being so weak as to seek solace in the high. It was no longer an escape; its effects had her spiraling through a nightmarish hell.

When she finally reached the ground floor, she bolted towards the street and waved frantically from a cab. She couldn't face her driver in her state, couldn't face anyone of remote familiarity. She needed strangeness and where better a place than a random cab?

Her heart raced. Her palms grew more and more clammy as the cars sped by at an alarming rate. Did they always go so fast? Weren't they scared of getting hurt?

A child squealed from behind her-wait, or maybe it was from across the street? She couldn't tell. Oh god, she had to get away.

"Hey lady! Get outta the street!"

A car screeched and she stumbled back onto the shelf of the sidewalk. The window rolled down and the driver yelled something at her, waved at her impatiently. Was this the taxi? The door opened and she found herself clambering in.

Her mouth moved on it's own, her words spoken in a language of their own. The driver somehow understood or maybe he was kidnapping her? The car sped off into the belly of the city.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window pane. How could she be so reckless? She nearly snorted, imagining her worry was very much like her mother's during her youth. A pang of hurt and anger tightened her chest and she croaked out, "stop!" The driver acquiesced, pulling towards the curb. She threw an absurd amount of cash in his direction before flinging herself into the bustle of the city.

She wanted to get lost and there was no better place than the sea of strangers. But normalcy, as reality liked to remind her, was something she just could not grasp. And so she stood out from the rest of the gray, discernible faces.

She grew frantic as they eyed her up and down. They wanted to devour her, swallow her whole. They needn't say it, she knew it full and well. If only she could manage the smolder clients begged to grace the cover of their magazines. No matter how desperately she tried to look fierce, her hammering heart pumped cowardice into her blood and into her very facade.

She wanted to cry, could feel the dry heaves coming on. She held the face of a building for support.

She regretted taking those damn pills. She regretted taking Ken's phone. She regretted almost everything in her life in that moment but most importantly, she regretted every taking up the _bastard's_ offer. She blamed him for it all.

* * *

_Past_

It was Izaya's idea to come up with an alias. The name "Mori" had grown to become a considerable target but most were too afraid to act. Though Hinamei wanted to object, it was her father who ultimately decided it was in the best interest of their "business." Her well-being, he convinced her, was an added bonus.

Hinamei knew the Awakusu-Kai controlled Ikebukuro. It was fact many people were aware of, actually. They were a formidable group, one people did best not to associate with let alone mess with. That wasn't to say there was a fair share of people who detested what they stood for. Their client was one of them.

His eyes were red and lips were raw from having bitten them over and over again. His body trembled from anger and maybe sadness. Grief was an ugly thing.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable as Hinamei stared at the offensive baggie he had thrown between them. The contents were not unfamiliar to her and if ever she felt guilt, it was probably in that moment. She couldn't bring herself to look the man in the eyes. She was at a loss.

Finally, Izaya cleared his throat as he folded one leg over the other and leisurely rested his elbow on the arm of the sofa. "So is this a transaction gone wrong or is there something else you need?" He couldn't sound any less interested.

The man's hurt quickly turned to rage as he slammed his hands on the table, the little capsules in the bag clattering across the surface. Hinamei hadn't flinched but her heart had surely clenched.

"Is this a joke to you?" the man shouted. "There's a murderer out there and the cops aren't doing a damn thing!"

"Is it really your place to take matters into your own hands?"

"Hell yes," the man growled out. "It became my damn place when some _bastard_ landed my daughter in the ER!"

"So you want justice?" Izaya mused.

"I want the name of the guy who sold her this shit," he flung his hand at the pills, scattering them across the floor, "so I can wring him by the throat to the point where he can't even _breathe._ Do you know what that's like?" The question was directed at Hinamei and she snapped her attention back at him. "To be gasping for air? My little girl is on a ventilator." He choked on a sob. "Can't even breathe on her own, hasn't woken up since she ended up there four days ago. Do you know what it's like, watching someone you love just _die?_"

"She's not dead yet," Hinamei whispered.

It was meant to bring the client solace but he fumed at once. "She won't die, I won't let her! But God!" He thew his face in his hands and groaned. "She looks like it already," he cried. "Like she's not even here anymore."

Hinamei looked at Izaya to see he was rather unaffected and equally unimpressed. "Well then," he prompted the grieving man. "I don't think you'll find any comfort bringing on the same fate your daughter's in upon another insignificant human. Honestly, if you're simply looking for someone to blame, blame her or better yet, _yourself.~_"

"Izaya," Hinamei hissed under her breath.

The man was appalled and rightfully offended. "If you won't help, I'll find someone who will and I swear, you'll have it coming to ya, ten-fold!"

Izaya's eyes narrowed though a smirk graced his lips. He didn't like to be threatened especially by someone as pathetic as the lousy father before him. "Very well," he said, "your business will be sorely missed." He rose to leave while tucking his hands in his coat's pockets. The sneer remained and Hinamei knew he had one last thing to say, the thing to push the man over the edge. "Send my regards to the ER.~" He looked as if he would cackle in triumph but simply turned away, leaving a ruined man in his midst. Hinamei hurried after him.

When they were out of earshot, she grabbed at his arm roughly. "What the hell," she hissed. "Even that was low for you, Izaya."

He cast her an annoyed look as he waved her driver over. "Did you want to be the one to sell out your father's business?" he asked. "Because he'd learn to forgive you though I'm not sure what would become of me."

They climbed into the car with Hinamei slamming the door behind her. "That's not what I meant," she snapped. "We hurt his daughter."

"_We_ haven't done anything but offer our services," Izaya corrected. "And if you've suddenly grown a heart, take that up with your father. But as far as I'm concerned, I've done my due diligence." Hinamei shook her head in disgust and Izaya huffed in frustration. "That's the problem with you humans," he spat. "You're a hapless victim to your emotions, blinded by them to the point you can't even see reason."

"Izay-"

"Neither you nor me, your father, nor some lowlife dealer is to blame for what happened to that man's daughter," Izaya went on. "Humans always need answers, need some type of explanation and when they don't like the truth, they'll keep digging into they find one that fits into their own little warped sense of reality. You want to know what it is? People make stupid choices all the damn time. Every action has a reaction, some less favorable than others. I won't be made to share in the guilt of a burden that is not mine to bear. And neither should you but that's your choice. Sympathize with that pathetic excuse of a father or see the truth for what it is. Your call but know this: emotions make you human and being human makes you _weak._"

* * *

_Present_

A hand grabbed at her arm and she nearly screeched but calmed when she found nothing but a teenager looking up at her, worried. "Miss, are you alright?" he asked. She felt herself shake her head. He scrutinized her for a moment before asking, "you okay to walk?" When she attempted to move forward, she stumbled and he rushed to hold her upright. He grinned uneasily. "Sheesh, you're wrecked," he laughed uncomfortably. "It's not safe for you to be like this out in the open, especially someone as pretty as you." She wanted to tell the kid to get lost before he wrapped his arm steadily around her waist and flung one of her arms over his shoulder. He looked up at her as if to ask if this was alright before guiding her slowly away from the masses. "I know of a quiet place not far from here. Just around the corner," he assured her. "Some food and water will get set you right."

The walk on unstable legs felt as if it stretched on forever but the kid reassured her they had only traveled a block. When they arrived at their destination, the smell of seafood wafted about. She wondered if she'd become nauseated but an unruly growl of her stomach told her the cuisine would do. The kid guided her to an empty booth, helping her settle down before taking the seat opposite from her. He ordered two waters before turned to her, concern and curiosity evident in his expression.

"Rough morning?" he teased and Hinamei wanted to knock him out. Who did the kid think he was to speak to her in such a way?

"Something like that," she muttered in response, eagerly drinking from the water once the glass arrived. The boy was quiet for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. He couldn't get a word out before Hinamei's swift interjection. "What do you want?" she asked curtly. "Name your price so we can both go on our ways." The boy had the audacity to look confused. Hinamei removed her glasses to shoot the boy a glare. Even in her intoxication, she was able to muster something intimidating and yet the boy was unfazed. Rather, he seemed to light up with delight.

"Mori Hinamei," he whispered excitedly under his breath. "How could I be so lucky?" He was positively gushing.

Hinamei leaned across the table and grabbed the kid from the front of his shirt. "Get over and just tell me what you want," she hissed. "What's it gonna take to keep you quiet? Or are you bent on embarrassing me? Eh, which is it?"

He looked at her sheepishly, rouge painting his cheeks. "If you don't want anyone to know you were here, my lips are sealed."

"Do I have your word?"

He nodded his head feverishly. "Anything for you!"

Hinamei released him and fell back into her seat. She wasn't convinced. The waiter stopped by their table to take their orders. The boy took it upon himself to pick out a spread for the two to share. When the waiter was gone, Hinamei glowered at the kid and he arched a brow in response.

"You don't seem to like me," he said.

"The word 'trust' seems more appropriate," she muttered, swishing the ice around her glass with her straw.

The kid paused. "I guess I can't really blame you. I did just meet you on the street."

"You _grabbed_ me," Hinamei corrected.

Again, the boy flushed. "Gah, don't take me as some pervert," he said. "It's my civil duty to make sure pretty ladies like you stay out of harm's way!"

"It just seems awfully convenient your calling brought you face to face with a lady of notoriety."

The boy grinned "Convenient or destined? In any case, I won't look a gifted horse in the mouth!"

Their food arrived and the boy attacked at it, oblivious all the while to the woman's scowl. "I don't believe you," she said. The boy looked up from his plate, confused. "There's gotta be something you're after. So c'mon, don't make me play this game."

The kid set down his chopsticks and adjusted the sleeves of pullover. "When I realized who you are, yeah, I got excited," the boy confessed. "I don't think you can really blame me. You're a celebrity, y'know? But there really is nothing to gain from outing you to the paparazzi." He flashed a wide grin. "Just a rough morning, yeah? We all have them." And he turned back to his meal.

Though Hinamei desperately wanted to know what angle the kid was playing at, there was no way she could deny he was telling the truth. Lying was something few had mastered and if this young boy had managed to do so, perhaps she deserved whatever consequence came her way for believing him to be a kid of integrity. And so she took her own chopsticks and began to eat, earning a delighted smile from the person opposite of her. He paused and stretched his hand across the table.

"Forgot to introduce myself," he said gleefully. "I'm Kida Masaomi!"


End file.
